


fly me to the moon, let me swing among the stars

by moriyu (ForestFish)



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama & Romance, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fire, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Multi, Not Beta Read, Old Fic, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Premonitions, adding here that there is a little bit of humour, circus AU, it's based on the irony of this being an AU and them being older and suffering from PTSD, it's tagged mature for the themes, learning to live with ptsd, mentions of permanently disabled character, now it's all, oh that's not tagged either
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-11 07:15:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28347516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForestFish/pseuds/moriyu
Summary: "A circus of stars,your dreams a trapeze, faceslift like mirrored moons."Imtiaz Dharker
Relationships: Heiwajima Shizuo/Orihara Izaya, Kida Masaomi/Mikajima Saki, Kishitani Shinra/Celty Sturluson
Comments: 24
Kudos: 24





	1. in these flashes of memory

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a spin of an old fic I wrote in 2012-ish. Since 2020 is ending and 2020 was basically what 2012 aspired to be, I decided to get this thing back and see how bad it was. It was bad. I'd written it in a different language and Oh Dear God, was it bad. However, it had a plot, which is something I haven't tried going for in a while. Some things were changed here but the main plot point was the death which had given everyone PTSD. I'm keeping some of past me's choices but getting rid of others. I was in my feelings yesterday and remembered this fic and somehow managed to find it. This is a nod to past me. He did nothing wrong and yet I keep bashing him for not standing up for himself and not perceiving his own issues. 
> 
> I doubt that many people will want to read this old thing. It won't even be properly revised and it will be full of typos and stuff, just like the old version. There have been some significant changes and I'll work on them when I get there. I decided to do this today as a way to curb the urge I felt to just delete everything I ever wrote. I'm looking at what I used to write, seeing my past self in that shit and giving that little bugger a pat in the back. I remember that schemes were drawn for this and stuff. It wasn't that bad. It was pretty bad but not terrible. The festivities really killed me. But anyway, I think it won't be long until I'm done translating/rewriting this thing. The characterisation may feel ooc and that's probably because it is but I'm pulling out the 'this is an AU!' card and rolling with that lol
> 
> If you read it, I hope you like it. Maybe it's your vibe, who knows?

* * *

A circus show is life in a heartbeat. It’s a flurry of emotions that is over in two hours. In those two hours you see people crying, and laughing, and you see surprise and drama and fear, and you see strength and beauty and love, and you see ugliness and you see rage. And you see it all in a short time span, thrown in your face, you’re drowned in all of it and that’s exactly what you want. That’s why you’re there. You want to feel the core of humanity inside that tent, with the flashing lights and the glowing artists.

The Sturlson Circus, run by the Kishitani family, functioned year-round in the same funfair. It didn’t move around as most circuses do. It had been operating there for over 20 years, but the new building was all but one year old. It had been rebuilt in the original 1800s style and it was uncanny how similar it was to the previous building, which had burnt down four years before by a massive fire. The original building had become a little more than a pile of steaming coals and ashes, two days before Christmas. What had caused the fire remained a secret though rumour had it that it’d started with a small accident and a fight.

Two people lost their lives and one of them was gravely injured. Dozens were hurt.

* * *

It was November then. Four years had passed, one year since the circus was rebuilt. The staff and artists were working hard to set up the show.

“Where is Shizuo?”, someone yelled in despair “This thing is going to crush us!”

It was Erika. She was trying to set up the backdrop of the ring in place helped by Walker. They’d somehow managed to lever it off the floor and were trying to push it into place, something reckless that they should haven’t done on their own. Their knees were trembling and buckling. The structure of solid, heavy wood weighed around 300kg. Suddenly it thumped loudly into place lifting a cloud of dust. They jumped back in surprise.

“Couldn’t you have waited?” Shizuo complained dusting his hands and glaring at them “Damn clowns.”

The two clowns puffed their chests, recovered from the panic.

“Excuse me, sir, but being a clown is a dignified job. And I would like to ask that you avoided such foul language in the presence of such a beautiful landscape.” Erika said dramatically, pointing at the backdrop.

“In poor taste indeed, Mr. Heiwajima” Walker added “the moon shines bright in the night sky and the poetry that comes out of your mouth is ‘damn clowns’. For shame.”

Erika took the dramatic cue in their little improv act and dropped on her knees, raising her hands to the ceiling with real tears in her eyes.

“Oh Lord, Dearest Lord” she wailed “save this man’s soul, forgive his sins for he cannot see beauty. His heart is withered and cold. He cannot sing the songs of love, recite the poems of old, the prose of the great!”

“Lord almighty, spare his lost soul!” Walker joined in, kneeling beside her and holding her as both cried dramatically. Shizuo stared blankly, annoyed and with barely contained anger.

“I see that you’re ready for your act, assholes.” He grunted before shoving his hands down his pockets and leaving the now laughing clowns behind. Shizuo got into the backstage and closed the door behind him, drowning out the sound of their laughter.

It smelled fresh and new in there, still, even a year after they finished rebuilding it. The varnish was still shiny, and the paint wasn’t peeling.

He got in his dressing room which doubled as a bedroom and locked the door behind him. Everything looked the same. Everything. The furniture was similar, the colours in there ranged from dark to light browns from the timber walls. The bloody vanity with those ridiculous lights was similar and was even in the same place. Even that disgusting moss-green armchair was still here. He hated that armchair.

Why had Shinra tried too hard to make it all look the same? They weren’t supposed to pretend nothing had happened. They were supposed to remember the friends they’d lost. Yet, even though there hadn’t been any Christmas show in four years, everyone was acting like nothing had happened. It was as if they wanted to erase those four years.

Shizuo kicked a potted plant that was by the clothing hanger beside the door and it flew across the room, smashing against the wall and sprayed dirt everywhere. He didn’t care about it and sat on that disgusting green armchair. His breath was laboured and painful, hurting his chest and he covered his face with his hands, closing his eyes, supporting his elbows on his knees.

His breath got shallower and shallower and rage took over. He couldn’t feel his hands and his chest ached as the violent flashes of memory flickered behind his eyelids.

Four years had passed. Four whole years had passed since the fire that had taken two lives and those people seemed to want to keep the dead buried and forgotten. They’d been their friends, their coworkers. One of them was a child. How could they try to erase his existence?

He hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in 4 years, waking up in cold sweats, drinking a lot, scared. The screaming and the sight of death, the all-consuming guilt, haunted every second of his waking life.

* * *

Two days before Christmas, he could feel everything he’d felt back then, still, and remembered everything clearly. It was bitterly cold outside and snow fell quietly, yet heavily, covering the land in a thick, white frozen blanket. The colourful and brightly lit Circus looked like a giant cake covered in whipped cream.

It was night-time, the Christmas lights on the façade flickered invitingly amidst the swirling snowflakes and, on that day, they had a full house. There were no empty seats left.

That wasn’t unusual. The Christmas show of the Sturlson Circus was famous and a bit of a Christmas tradition for many people in that area. Everything was running smoothly, the artists were in peak condition and the audience was having the time of their lives.

The Headless Knight Act, a headless knight who galloped through the audience without touching anybody, was one of the main attractions. They didn’t know it wasn’t a trick, but a very real Dullahan. Then there was Kasuka, the stunning magician, and the Orihara sisters, the outstanding contortionists, who left everyone wondering if they had bones in their bodies, left the audience in awe. Jugglers, knife-throwers, combined strength acts. It was the greatest show on Earth for the night.

The last acts were the trapeze and the clowns.

It was freezing outside but inside that building, it was ridiculously hot. The audience was sweating abundantly and everywhere you looked, there were happy people with flaming red cheeks.

“God, it’s so hot in here” Shinra, the ringmaster, had said in the backrooms while the trapezists got ready to go in. He was fanning himself with a stack of papers “this outfit isn’t helping at all” he’d complained, tugging at the frilly collar of his purple outfit “we shouldn’t have cranked the heating up so high.”

“It’s probably worse out there.” Shizuo had said to that, gesturing vaguely to the window where they could see the snow glowing yellow from the light pouring out. He was still in his underwear and he was supposed to be dressed already “Where the hell are our costumes?” He asked loudly, angry “The performance starts in 15 minutes, for fuck’s sake!”

“You should go out like that, Shizu-chan.” Said a lilted voice behind him. He could hear the amusement in his annoying voice “I think everyone would love it.”

It was Izaya Orihara, one of his flyers in the trapeze. Shizuo was the catcher. Izaya was also in his underwear, and he shouldn’t have been either.

Shizuo hadn’t expected Izaya to walk up to him and hold him, pressing his cold, naked chest against his back. It was an unusually gentle touch. He crossed his arms around his chest and placed his freezing hands on his shoulders. Shizuo gasped a little and shivered but couldn’t remember trying to get away from him. He remembered the feeling of his absurdly soft, yet lukewarm skin against his, the nipples hardened by the cold, the gentle hands.

“What are you doing, flea?” Shizuo complained but didn’t move. Izaya was cold and he wasn’t. “Why were you so cold? Feels like you don’t have any blood.”

Izaya chuckled and slowly got away before popping almost like magic in front of him.

“Maybe you could warm me up a little before we climb up there. What do you think?” He asked suggestively with a playful smile that didn’t feel natural. That was his usual nonsense. Trying to rile him up even at a time like that.

Izaya’s smile pissed Shizuo off the most. It couldn’t understand it and it felt like mockery but not really. It felt like a provocation but not really. It looked like his real expression was being distorted and Shizuo had no idea what that would be. What would the real expression be? He hated being unable to grasp what it was. Being young, dumb, and unable to express his thoughts and feelings with words, Shizuo resorted to animosity which always turned into explosive anger.

Izaya was also young and reckless and enjoyed provoking Shizuo because he knew he had a short-fuse, or rather, no fuse. He was as volatile as gunpowder and Izaya metaphorically kept sharpening knives beside him.

“Shut the fuck up, man.” Shizuo barked and looked around again “Where the fuck are those costumes?” Shizuo asked loudly avoiding Izaya’s fake-sad look. Shizuo was seriously starting to lose his reason. The stress of having to perform and the costumes being nowhere to be seen and then Izaya, who decided that bothering him at a time like that was a good idea.

Finally, Saki, the wardrobe girl, showed up with the much-needed costumes bundled up in her arms.

“The costumes are here! I’m so sorry!” She apologised profusely with tears in her eyes and terrified of Shizuo’s death glare.

“Fucking finally!” Shizuo growled snatching the costumes out of her hands. He threw the three smaller ones to the flyers and put his on. The colours were etched in his brain like everything else from that day. They were made of cerulean spandex with embroidered sequins and had a deep V-neck that ran down to the middle of their chests. Vorona’s was a beautiful leotard in the same colours but covered her chest more with cute little shiny frills.

It was show time but at that moment he heard a small, terrified voice behind him and looked down to see the trembling boy looking up at him.

“Shizuo-senpai…” Masaomi Kida said, shakily. They were the last ones to leave. Kida was their youngest flyer. He was only 16. Kida had panic written all over his face and couldn’t stop trembling. He’d spent the whole day awfully silent.

“What’s wrong, Masaomi?” Shizuo asked, worried “Do you feel sick?”

“Uh, I, I… I had this dream… and, and I’m scared…” he told him at last, swallowing hard. Shizuo was confused.

“A dream? What kind of dream?” He asked.

Kida had shivered and hugged himself.

“Maybe it’s silly, just some random fear thing… but it felt like, it felt like a premonition…” he’d said and Shizuo didn’t listen. He felt the energy and it was all wrong but he didn't listen. He ignored the body language, the sheer terror, the very real fear. Even if it’d had been just a dream, someone that scared shouldn’t have climbed up there.

Shizuo remembered trying to cheer him up by patting his skinny shoulder.

“It’s alright. Whatever it is, it was just a dream. Don’t worry about it. You’ll do well.” He’d assured him, confidently. And Kida had smiled too, just a little, looking less worried.

“You need to come up. We need a catcher, even if that one doesn’t come.” Vorona told them coldly, flatly, her usual tone.

Shizuo smiled at her.

“We’re coming, Vorona!”

That wasn’t a usual trapeze act. They didn’t just do swings and vaults on the fly bars. The rig was unique in that it allowed for a kind of human juggling act. Shizuo was the catcher and juggler of the flyers, who were kept in the air thanks to his unbelievable strength. A monstrous strength, as Izaya called it, knowing he didn’t like it. Aside from the usual metal rig, there were four posts with boards set in a square around the main ring. Each of these posts was connected to the metal rig with steel cables, lit with bright red lights.

The trapeze act was the highlight of the Sturlson Circus show because nobody else did it like that, since nobody else had a Shizuo.

And Shizuo remembered the feelings of his flyers’ hands. Izaya’s hands, Masaomi’s hands, Vorona’s hands. The mesmerising and fulfilling sight of seeing them fly and knowing he’d been the one to make them fly among the sparkling lights. He remembered Izaya’s smile and wink when he flew back, spinning fast, with a speed and grace none of the others had.

The first part of the act went well and the audience was on fire but then the second part went downhill from the get-go.

“Where’s the chalk?” Shizuo asked horrified. It was magnesium carbonate that they needed to get a better grip on the bars and avoid the danger of sweaty palms. Everyone was on the main board on top of the metal rig and getting ready to fly again.

“I don’t know!” Masaomi yelled, panicking, shaking from head to toe.

“Isn’t it that white thing down there?” Vorona asked, pointing at the floor, at the glowing white powder, 30 metres below the board where they were standing.

“Did I knock it over when I landed…” Izaya asked quietly, smiling with glassy eyes, staring at the mess that had been done.

Shizuo lost his mind, even though nobody was sure who’d knocked the chalk bag over and Izaya had just suggested that maybe he’d accidentally done it. Shizuo grabbed Izaya by the collar of his costume and pulled him up and closer to him, seeing red. The first mistake.

“WHAT NOW, ASSHOLE? WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO DO NOW?” He shouted in his face “YOU’RE THINKING OF GOING ON THOSE BARS WITH NO CHALK?”

“DON’T YELL AT ME, BASTARD! I DIDN’T DO IT ON PURPOSE, I DON’T EVEN KNOW, I DON’T EVEN KNOW IF IT WAS ME, ALRIGHT?” Izaya shouted back, putting his hands over Shizuo’s and gripping them hard, staring at him with genuine anger in his eyes that Shizuo didn’t recognise as such at that moment. The second mistake.

“I KNOW IT WAS YOU. YOU ALWAYS MESS THINGS UP BECAUSE YOU FIND IT FUNNY.” Shizuo accused him completely out of his mind.

Izaya widened his eyes and opened his mouth before closing it and gritting his teeth. He let go of one of Shizuo’s hands and punched him. In the mouth. With all the strength in his arm. Shizuo let go of him and brought his hand up to his mouth to see that it was bleeding. The third mistake.

“Get me, monster.” Izaya snarled, clenching his fists again, ready “Do it.”

Shizuo saw nothing but red and was completely out of his mind. He swung the fatal punch in Izaya’s direction but Izaya dodged it and instead Shizuo’s fist pierced right through the metal rig. The cables were lit with electricity which coursed through the metal rig which was a fire hazard on the inside. Shizuo smashed through the metal with the strength of his fist and when he pulled his bloodied hand out, some cables snapped and sparked, poking out and short-circuiting. It was a matter of seconds before that section was flickering. Then it caught fire and the whole rig was engulfed in flames in a matter of minutes. It was too hot in there, the air was full of carbon monoxide.

Nobody knew what was happening up there until they saw the rig catching fire and being swallowed by the flames. The electric fire spread out. The heating was connected to electricity as well and the cables were everywhere, even under the seats. In less than 10 minutes everything had caught fire, the seats, the ceiling, the ring. It was an inferno. Everything was red. There was screaming as the audience was quickly evacuated and the staff tried to do something, anything to get the trapezists down. None of them moved.

Shizuo was frozen in place, despite the burning fire all around them, horrified. It felt like he wasn’t there.

People were running everywhere, things were blowing up in the distance, the board was creaking threateningly beneath them, about to collapse. That was Hell. That was what Hell looked like. Ten minutes before everything was amazing, everything was perfect, and suddenly it’d all gone up in flames.

“It’s, it’s like in my dream…” Masaomie muttered and Shizuo heard him vaguely. He looked at him and see the young boy’s glassy eyes where the orange flames flickered.

Shizuo couldn’t process the shock of hearing that fast enough to stop the boy. People were screaming still as they were quickly evacuated out of there and the firefighters arrived.

“I DON’T WANT TO DIE!” Masaomi shouted, completely out of his mind. He was consumed by the panic and despair and instead of staying there, where they could be lifted into safety he jumped out and onto one of the bars and swung away into the middle of the flames. Shizuo felt his heart stop.

“NO! MASAOMI! COME BACK! YOU’LL FALL, YOU’LL FALL! PLEASE COME BACK!” Shizuo belted at the top of his lungs. The safety net had been destroyed by the flames. Shizuo jumped on one of the other bars and swung out trying to catch Masaomi but he was too late. He managed to grip his hand before he fell but he’d passed out, likely due to inhaling carbon monoxide, so he didn’t grip Shizuo’s hand and slipped out of his grip.

He fell hopelessly, like a ragdoll, from a height of 30 metres.

All sound stopped for Shizuo. He couldn’t hear anything, not his own screaming, not the screaming of the people, not the screaming of his friends.

Nothing. There was nothing.

He looked around, still gripping hard onto the bar. Things seemed to be happening in slow-motion. He saw Masaomi’s lifeless body in a puddle of red, he saw where and what had happened to him, but it felt like it’d been slowed down, like he was trapped inside a dream, out of his own body. He looked at the board and saw Izaya still standing there and he saw Vorona still standing there and he saw one of the other posts fall over and almost hit them. He saw Izaya react and pull Vorona back but the post got her legs and they were crushed along with the board. Izaya held onto her body as she shouted in agony, holding onto him and the board was gone. Izaya grabbed the last bar and hooked his arm on it, not letting go of the girl, gripping her against his side. Her legs were smashed, and it looked like her spine had been damaged too. Shizuo locked eyes with him and saw the panic as he gripped her tightly.

The sound returned and it was deafening. Shizuo wanted to swing over and get them because he could see Izaya’s strength falter. There were flames and fire everywhere. The ceiling had collapsed and from the outside the snow that fell melted and poured over them, hot and acid. He vaguely heard a helicopter and saw ropes fall through the ceiling. They got Izaya and Vorona first and Shizuo cried seeing them be hoisted to safety. Then they came for him and he saw the firefighters start to put out the fire down there as Masaomi Kida’s body was bagged and heaved onto a stretcher. Like he’d never been human. Like waste. Shizuo saw that as he was helped onto the helicopter and they were taken to a hospital.

It passed in a haze and in no time he and Izaya were out of there. Vorona was left paralysed from the waist down and refused to talk to anyone.

Shizuo saw Izaya for the last time by the ashes of the circus sometime later as they retrieved what they could from there.

Izaya was standing, wearing a black winter coat with a hood that he’d seen him wear before, looking at the pile of ashes. Shizuo didn’t want to speak to him. He didn’t know what to say. There was nothing to say. There were no words for the void inside him, the agony of loss, the overwhelming guilt.

“I’m leaving, Shizu-chan.” Izaya said loud enough for Shizuo to hear him and Shizuo looked at him “I’m leaving.”

“You’re running away,” Shizuo said and heard the bile in his tone.

Izaya shrugged.

“Whatever.”

“You did this.” Shizuo accused and grit his teeth. Izaya looked at him and there was a smile on his lips, one that didn’t reach his glassy eyes.

“No, we did this.” Izaya corrected him, softly “I won’t let your stupid ass blame me to make yourself feel better.”

“I hate you. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t…” Shizuo gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. Izaya’s expression changed and then softened and he sighed.

“You do, don’t you?” Izaya said mildly “I know you do. You hate me. But remember this, Shizuo. Remember that you did this too.” He pointed at the ashes and turned around. The last Shizuo saw of him was his tense back quickly walking away.

* * *

Four years on and Shizuo was caught in the loop of that day, reliving it day in and day out. Aside from Masaomi Kida, another person had died, the electrician who’d tried to shut down the system. Vorona had moved back to Russia to live with her brother and he hadn’t heard from her since. From what he’d heard, Shinra had offered to give her a monthly paycheck and she’d turned it down.

Izaya had simply vanished. Shizuo had no idea where he’d gone and it seemed like Shinra didn’t, either. Nobody knew if he was dead or alive.

The causes of the fire had been ruled out as a short-circuit. Since most of it had been destroyed it’d been hard to tell where exactly it’d started. Shizuo knew of course but he didn’t know if anyone else did and frankly, what did it matter? Kida didn’t have a family, Shinra had coldly stated, nobody but them would miss him. Legally, he’d barely even existed so all they had to do was grieve and move on. Shizuo thought he was mad for that. What kind of sociopath says that after the death of one of his underage employees?

Shizuo hadn’t moved on at all. After that day, he hadn’t climbed the trapeze at all. He did a floor act now, serving as the base to the Orihara sisters, Izaya’s sisters. The trapeze had been rebuilt, shorter, but nobody had climbed it yet. There were no trapezists.

He shook his head and got up from that green armchair and walked to the vanity, holding himself against the white wood and staring at his reflection in the mirror. His eye sockets were sunken and grey and his skin was pale. His hair was a right mess after not having been properly cut in four years. He hadn’t bleached again and it was now just brown and long, tied back in a messy ponytail. The loose white dress shirt he was wearing was worn and wrinkly, unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest and his jeans were ripped in several places. Not in a fun, hip way. They were just old.

Sighing deeply and taking in his appearance he scratched the stubble under his chin and grabbed a canteen full of whisky and took a good swig of it. The strong taste and the feeling of it sliding down his throat calmed him down a bit. He set it aside and sat down.

Being a month away from the 23rd of December it wasn’t weird for him to feel especially miserable but he needed to get a grip for the sake of the Sturlson Circus, for the sake of Mairu and Kururi’s act.

As they say, the show must go on, no matter what.

* * *

“Well, my beloved friends, my dearest, gifted artists” Shinra started, opening his arms and grinning from ear to ear at the meeting he’d called the following day at the meeting room “as you may know, it’s that time of year when we start preparing our Christmas show.”

There were several noises of recognition and agreement.

Shizuo didn’t react.

“And being this the first Christmas since the Sturlson Circus resumed business, we want to make this the best show on Earth!” He said loudly, mimicking his ringmaster persona.

Some of the artists chuckled but Shizuo just stared at him. Shinra waited for everyone to shut up to keep speaking and say what he wanted to say.

“And so, for that reason” he began and his eyes swam over to where Shizuo was “we will inaugurate the trapeze.”

A heavy silence fell. Nobody spoke. Everyone knew what that meant.

“I won’t go up there.” Shizuo declared firmly and got up from the floor where he’d been sitting with everyone else.

Nobody said a word. His reaction was all but expected.

“Shizuo…” Shinra started, patiently, appeasing “It’s been four years…”

“Could have been ten, Shinra. I won’t climb the rig.” He repeated firmly “Don’t bother insisting. I won’t change my mind.”

“But…” Shinra tried still. Shizuo cut him off.

“No.” He said, raising his voice but remaining somewhat calm “I won’t climb. And if you try to make me, I’ll leave the circus for good.”

Shinra shut up, clearly aware that it was pointless. Nobody said a word and the silence was heavy when Shizuo opened the door and left, closing it behind himself.

The fucking nerve. How could he use time as an excuse to tell him to climb up there? He stomped down the hallway and opened the door to the outside. He needed a smoke and some cold air on his face because he felt like he was about to burst. Thankfully he’d managed to stay calm during the meeting but fuck, seriously. It was windy and cold, exactly what he needed to relax. The wind always helped him calm down a bit, maybe because of the sound it made in his ears, the whistling, something he could focus on for a bit to forget about whatever was bothering his mind.

Shizuo pulled out his pack of smokes and pulled one out, lighting it up, fully aware that he’d have to share it with the wind. A small price to pay to a moment of peace. He sat down against the wall, blowing clouds of smoke into the wind.

No time would ever heal the pain of letting that child slip out of his fingers. Masaomi would have been 20 that year and he wasn’t, and it was his fault. Izaya had saved Vorona, and while she’d been left paralysed, she’d survived. Shizuo had let the kid die and no time in the world would erase that from his mind.

If they wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened, it was on them. He couldn’t and wouldn’t. He’d carry the weight until the day that he died.

Izaya didn’t have to carry any weight, of course. He’d saved Vorona, which in hindsight had been telling of a character Shizuo didn’t know he had. At the end of the day, the only one to blame was him and his anger.

Yet, Izaya hadn’t shaken off the guilt like he’d tried to do. Izaya had blamed them both for it and Shizuo felt anger consume him, seeing the face he made just before he left in his mind’s eye. That weird smile, the glassy eyes. And then he’d vanished.

He’d tried therapy but had fallen flat because the therapist he’d landed didn’t know shit about PTSD. Shinra had tried to convince him to see a different one but he’d refused and if he didn’t want it, then it was useless to insist.

Shizuo got up from the floor and threw the butt of the cigarette on the floor, stepping on it to put it out.

“Shizuo” he heard a familiar flat, expressionless voice call after hearing the door close.

He turned around and saw his brother, Kasuka, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Shizuo frowned and shoved his hands down his pockets.

“Did they tell you to come change my mind?”

“No.” Kasuka replied simply “Everyone knows it’s pointless. You’re too stubborn. I know that better than anyone else. In case you don’t remember, I’ve been your brother since I was born.”

Shizuo smiled a little at his brother’s mild deadpan joke.

“Yeah, almost forgot that one.” He played along.

Kasuka didn’t smile. He wasn’t a smiler and Shizuo was used to that. It was just the personality he’d developed to counter Shizuo’s explosive, overly emotional one. That stung but it was better than the alternative.

“Can I ask you something though?” Kasuka asked, looking at him in the eyes.

“Sure.”

“Why don’t you want to climb?”

Shizuo was silent, clenching his fists in his pockets. Wasn’t it obvious?

“I know the answer,” Kasuka said blankly “I just wanted to make sure you did too.” He said and then kept going “Remind me why we joined the circus.”

Shizuo raised an eyebrow.

“Because I’m a monster with inhuman strength and anger issues who can’t function properly in society and our parents couldn’t handle the trouble I caused?” He answered with another question, mildly confused. That one was obvious too.

“Moron.” Kasuka spat, squinting at him.

Shizuo blinked at him, mildly surprised by the reaction. That was the truth though, that was the main reason. Why did he sound so upset?

“You’re a moron.” Kasuka repeated and Shizuo wanted to say that he knew but Kasuka kept speaking “Don’t you like what you do here?”

Shizuo fell silent for a moment, thinking as he looked at his brother’s face.

Did he like what he did there? Was he talking about the trapeze or the floor stuff with Mairu and Kururi? He’d be lying if he said he liked the latter and he’d also be lying through his teeth if he said he didn’t like the former. He’d loved the trapeze ever since they’d joined the circus when he was 12, he’d said right away that that was what he wanted to do. He wanted to be a catcher. He wanted to make people fly.

That was when he’d met Izaya and the others, his found family, a family who accepted him the way he was, who accepted his inhuman strength and didn’t treat him like a freak. He’d been happy at the circus despite his animosity towards Izaya, the pest, that little socially inept imp.

Kasuka had gone with him, under the excuse that Shizuo couldn’t be on his own. That only half of the truth. Their family had very much wanted to get rid of Shizuo and Kasuka hated them for that so he’d abandoned them too. Shizuo felt guilty for that too but Kasuka had made sure to let him know he’d never forgive him if he ever said that to him. Kasuka had loved doing magic tricks since he was a small kid and it was clear that he had zero interest in being a normal member of society.

“I do like it” Shizuo finally said after thinking about it, fisting his hands and digging his nails into his palms “but that means nothing.”

Kasuka stared at him, studying his expression.

“I see.” He said simply after a moment. Then he got away from the wall, opened the door to go back inside. With his hand on the doorknob, he glanced at his brother and asked,

“If Izaya returned” he suddenly asked, “would you climb again?”

Shizuo stared at him and his heart raced painfully.

“You don’t have to answer that either.” Kasuka said flatly, pulled the door open, got in, and closed it behind him without another word.

Shizuo breathed heavily and looked up at the late afternoon sky.

Would he?

He was stood there, staring blankly at the door, with his mouth slightly agape. He rubbed the left side of his chest.

Would he climb it again if Izaya returned?

That shook something in the deepest of his core and honestly, he didn’t know. He had no idea what his reaction would be, seeing Izaya after four years of no contact or news. Of not knowing where he’d gone and why he’d gone.

He didn’t know.

* * *

Shizuo didn’t sleep much that night as usual and got up earlier than everyone, which was also not unusual. He went outside to smoke his morning cigarette after taking a cold shower and brushing his teeth after shaving his face. Basic hygiene was something he tried very hard to maintain despite his grungy appearance.

It was bitterly cold outside and the sun hadn’t risen yet. The sky was dark with hues of dark purple and hints of a lighter blue. It was half-past six in the morning.

The air felt different that morning. There was a static, oddly familiar energy. He ignored it as he lit and smoked his cig, lost in thought, and blowing clouds of thick white smoke mixed with his warm breath into the air. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and when he opened them again, he felt like he was seeing a ghost.

Shock took over first, he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Shizu-chan.” Izaya’s familiar lilted voice called with a smile “Long time no see. I didn’t think I’d be so disgustingly lucky that the first ghost from the past that I’d see would be you.”

It was Izaya Orihara, in the flesh. Looking different, too, his hair was also longer but it was him.

Shizuo stared, shocked, his mind reeling.

* * *


	2. we live on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was like no time had passed, but it had. It truly had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there. I'm idle and again this isn't being revised or betaed so, sorry about odd stuff. This is an old story and I can't stop emphasising that. The reason I didn't set the publication date to an earlier time is that I'm updating it as I go and the story has changed considerably. This is kinda all over the place with the emotions, very whimsical, and probably inconsistent. Pulling the 'This is an AU!' card again because of course, this is OOC at times. But anyway, I'm thankful that some people have touched it and given it a go because it feels validating, especially because I decided to do this yesterday as I was debating deleting everything I'd ever written. 
> 
> Hope you vibe with this too.

* * *

Izaya was standing right there in the foggy morning, the sun was yet to rise, and he was there. Shizuo’s first coherent thought was that he was hallucinating because he was sleep-deprived, but it couldn’t be. He felt his presence, that energy, that expression that couldn’t be mimicked.

“Izaya…” he choked out, feeling his throat dry and chucking the rest of his cigarette onto the floor. He stepped on it and moved forward, through the smoke, clenching his fists.

Izaya smiled and it was that old smile, the old provoking smile, the one that he’d known since they were children, and was a silent challenge. He wanted Shizuo to attack him.

“Let me just get rid of my backpack, please,” Izaya said mildly and set it aside, against the wall of the new circus building. Then he turned to Shizuo, opened his arms as one would do to get a hug, but that wasn’t what he wanted “Come get me, Shizu-chan.”

Shizuo had already grabbed the nearest litter bin and flung it in his direction. Izaya had seen it and was waiting for it, so he swiftly dodged it and used it as leverage to jump up and do a graceful vault, landing on top of a cotton-candy vending cart. Shizuo gritted his teeth hard and clenched his fists, breathing heavily through his nose, glaring daggers at the man standing on top of the bright pink cart.

He was right there. Izaya was right there. He’d returned. His thoughts were filled with nothing but Izaya and anger and the bestial urge to destroy. He ripped a timber light pole off the ground and swung it dangerously in Izaya’s direction but hit only the cotton-candy cart. It flew away against the ice-cream cart, which was also partially destroyed. Izaya jumped up, high, doing a double vault and landing on top of the candy apple stand.

There were no longer behind the circus, they were now on the side where the other attractions of the funfair were. How could Izaya act like that after vanishing for four years? Shizuo thought but he too was acting weirdly. Like no time had passed. They were back to the past and Shizuo was on a rampage because Izaya had stollen all his underwear and swapped it for thongs.

Shizuo lifted the cotton-candy cart and threw it full force in Izaya’s direction who swiftly jumped off the candy apple stand, which was destroyed in his stead. He laughed wildly.

“Oh wow, what would have happened if that had gotten me?” He asked loudly with a mad glint in his eyes.

“IT WOULDN’T HAVE GOTTEN YOU,” Shizuo yelled, able to speak at last but unsure of what he was saying. Izaya cackled madly, standing on top of the rainbow-coloured goldfish stand.

“It could have though.” Izaya teased. The sun had shyly started rising from behind the trees of the funfair and the golden colours flooded the morning, shooing the dark away.

The purple hues of the circus building seemed more inviting then, happier too. None of that made them stop. Shizuo clenched his fists again as the flashes of the past flickered in his brain like a film he didn’t want to see. The fire, Masaomi, Vorona, and then the last time he’d seen Izaya. His heart drummed painfully against his ribs and his breathing was laboured.

“IZAYA-A-A-A-A!” He bellowed at the top of his lungs, his voice echoing through the empty space, scaring a flock of birds hiding in the trees.

They were all gone but Izaya was there. Izaya was alive.

He started running without being able to stop himself and Izaya couldn’t react fast enough to that because it’d been so long and Shizuo never went for direct hits. Yet he did this time.

 _‘Ah’_ , Izaya thought, relieved as he fell off the stand that Shizuo had grabbed and thrown to the other side of the fair _‘he’ll do it this time.’_

What Shizuo did though, wasn’t what Izaya thought he’d do. Izaya fully expected to fall on the ground and break something but instead, he fell on something soft and warm.

Shizuo’s arms.

Shizuo didn’t know what led him to stretch out his arms and reflexively hold on to his old flyer and personal annoyer but he did. Izaya instinctively held onto Shizuo and stared up at him, seeing him stare back at him. Izaya knew that if Shizuo wanted, he could snap him in half. Deep down though, both knew he wouldn’t. He’d had his life in his hands many times and never let him fall.

The difference here was being held gently in his arms and seeing that unreadable look in his eyes.

Shizuo’s brain was mush at that moment and his emotions were all over the place but feeling Izaya’s body in his arms was healing in a way he couldn’t understand. It was the closest they could get to a hug between friends who’d been away for a long time.

 _‘He’s alive’_ , Shizuo said to himself, mentally, looking at the boy in his arms, looking paler and feeling lighter than he remembered, with deep bags under his eyes, still looking at him _‘Izaya is alive.’_

Finally, he carefully let him go on the floor. Izaya staggered a little to steady himself and looked at Shizuo. He smiled mildly.

“You’re unpredictable as always,” he said with a deep sigh, shaking his head “but thanks, for catching me,” he snorted “after making me fall.”

Shizuo huffed and gulped, shoving his hands down his pockets. He looked away from him. His heart was racing, and he felt numb.

“I thought you were about to snap me in half for a second… but then I remembered that you never dropped me before,” Izaya confessed with a smile, shrugging.

“Oh my dear God almighty. What the hell happened here? Was there a storm!?” Shinra’s desperate voice echoed from behind the circus and then they saw him show up with his hands on his head. Shizuo and Izaya looked at him “Shizuo! What the fuck? Was it you!? Wha-!”, and he noticed who exactly was standing beside Shizuo, smiling and waving at him “Izaya! Oh my God! It’s really you!”

“Hey there, long time no see,” he greeted him.

Shinra grinned happily.

“You’re back!”

“Seems like it,” Izaya confirmed with a smile “but there’s no need for a welcome party. Shizu-chan took care of that in his special way. I feel very much at home already.”

Shizuo glared at him but said nothing. What could he say?

Shinra laughed and walked over to Izaya to give him an awkward hug that Izaya returned just as awkwardly before both got away from each other.

“I don’t even mind the destruction of my fair. I’ll confess that it gets boring out here, without the occasional chaos.” He said with a grin, patting them both on the back and motioning them into the circus.

* * *

Everyone was shocked by Izaya’s seemingly sudden return. Nobody had ever expected him to still be alive, let alone that he’d return after so long. However, in general, everyone was happy to see him. Confused and shocked, but happy.

“Iza-ni,” called his sister Mairu, happily jumping onto him and hugging him around the neck tightly “you’re not dead yet!”

“Unfortunately,” Kururi said blankly. Izaya snorted and shook his head. His sisters were still the same loving pair.

“That’s right, much to your dismay, it seems like I’m back,” he said with a small smile.

Kururi broke character a bit to smile at him and whisper.

“I’m glad you are.”

Izaya looked at his sister, seeing her go back to character, and saw Mairu nod a little. Izaya lowered his head a little and scoffed.

“Time really has passed, uh? You’re all grown up now.” He said mildly and glanced at Shizuo, whose eyes were still on him.

Shizuo couldn’t stop looking at him, almost without blinking, irrationally thinking that he might vanish into thin air if he looked away. However, the whirlwind of emotions was too much to handle and he left after a while.

The walls down the hallway seemed to be closing in on him and he breathed heavily brushing strands of unruly brown hair out of his face with trembling fingers. He pushed the door that led to the ring from backstage and walked onto it. The floor had been rebuilt in a different way, one that followed very strict safety guidelines. It was the state of the art when it came to ring floors. Of course, nobody would survive a freefall from the top of the trapeze but they wouldn’t get hurt from dropping from lower heights, which could happen to the hoopers and the tightrope walkers. It barely made noise when you walked over it because that wasn’t even wood. It was rubber made to look like wood. Underneath it was stuffed with durable material that cushioned minor impacts. There was a net though. The trapeze had been built to be 10 metres shorter, but the net was there right overhead.

Shizuo pulled out a cigarette and pulled out his lighter but his fingers were trembling too much and he dropped it on the floor where it made a little dull noise, barely audible.

He looked at it with the cigarette between his lips and stared at his hand, the same hand that had failed to save Masaomi’s life. His breath was coming out shallow and heavy and being there wasn’t helping.

What pulled him was the familiar presence of his remaining flyer and the click of his zippo followed by the soothing scent of tobacco. He opened his eyes and saw Izaya standing in front of him with the lighter still on smiling mildly at him.

Izaya looked at the flame for a bit and then sighed, closing the lighter and handing it back. Shizuo hesitated before reaching his trembling hand to grab it and pocket it.

“Why are you here?” Shizuo asked hoarsely, after pulling in some smoke and blowing it away from Izaya. He remembered that he didn’t like it when smoke was blown in his face.

“Wanted to see the new ring. Shinra told me it was state of the art.” Izaya scoffed and stomped lightly on it “Seems like he’s right. Too bad it doesn’t have the power to turn back time, eh?”

Shizuo didn’t respond to that, and looked away, unable to look Izaya in the eyes. Izaya was good at monologuing though so he kept talking.

“He told me about Saki, too. Tried to off herself,” he hummed vaguely “Pretty extreme. Seems like she and Masaomi had been dating or something. Shinra says she’s doing fine these days,” Izaya kept talking, hopping from one foot to the other in a kind of little dance with his hands down his pockets “became a seamstress and does all sorts of commissioned costumes. Sounds boring as hell,” he commented with a smile “But to each their own, as they say. Do whatever you can do to cope.”

Then he fell quiet for a moment and Shizuo felt his eyes on him.

“Seems like you haven’t been coping very well. You look haggard as fuck, Shizu-chan,” he said softly and Shizuo, despite his inability to read people and a tendency to think the worst of whatever Izaya did, didn’t feel any scorn in his words “guess we both sank deep, uh?”

Silence fell again, ringing heavy in Shizuo’s ears. In his mind, all he could hear were his brother’s words and his question.

‘If Izaya returned, would you climb again?’

He didn’t know. Izaya was right there but he didn’t know, especially because seeing Izaya then, he realised that he hadn’t been living the jolly little life Shizuo assumed he’d live if nothing had happened to him. His thoughts about that man were all over the place. There was just too much going on in Izaya’s brain and Shizuo was far from being the sharpest tool in the shed, unlike Izaya.

“They say you don’t want to climb again.” Izaya broke the silence, cutting to the chase. Shizuo looked at him again after blowing more smoke into the air above them.

“I don’t.” He replied vaguely.

“Why not?” Izaya asked tilting his head to the side with a small smile.

“Why did you leave?” Shizuo asked in return, with barely contained anger, almost defiantly. Izaya smiled and sighed.

“Exactly.” He said softly and licked his lips before biting the lower one a little and shrugging “It’s funny how a dumbass like you can know exactly what to ask. Guess luck favours the dumb, not bold.” He teased and chortled a little. Shizuo glared at him. Izaya raised his hands “No fighting, Shizu-chan. You drained the hell out of me out there. I just came back from a long trip.”

Shizuo finished his cigarette and put the butt out on the sole of his shoe. He wouldn’t throw it on the floor of the ring.

“But you know, being my sisters’ base” Izaya scrunched his nose and shook his head “sounds like a nightmare. How do you put up with them?” He asked casually, almost friendly, almost like they were truly old friends. So much so that it drew a small smile from Shizuo.

“They annoy my brother more than they annoy me. That helps,” he explained. Izaya chortled heartily.

“That’s so mean, Shizu-chan,” he grinned “poor Kasuka-kun. After all the effort he puts trying to be calm and emotionless.”

Shizuo snorted and shook his head, sighing deeply. Yeah, they were a bunch of messed up people, weren’t they? His fingers were still a bit numb, but he’d curbed the episode he was about to have because Izaya had shown up to light his cig.

“I’m not sure if his approach to anger is better than yours, if we’re being honest here,” Izaya offered mildly “you both came from hell and you chose violence. He chose lies.” Izaya stated. Shizuo looked at him “I’m not wrong. You’re honest, Shizuo, your brother isn’t. Neither am I, I guess,” he shrugged with a snort and looked up at the trapeze “they built it shorter,” he scoffed, “as if that’d make a lot of difference even with this stupid floor.”

Shizuo stared at the man standing before him, unsure of what to make of his words, which frankly were too much for him to fully understand. From what he could understand, though, Izaya wasn’t dissing him and the energy he got from him felt similar to his own.

Things had changed in those four years. Neither felt like the same person anymore and it was shocking that they could have a conversation like that at all. Sure, Shizuo had gone on a rampage upon seeing him but thinking about it now, it didn’t feel like that was him anymore and the reason he’d done it had probably been the unreality of the moment. Seeing Izaya like that, emerging from the deep, cold fog of the morning while he was dissociating. He’d felt like he’d been transported to the past for a moment.

Shizuo had caught Izaya in his arms and let him go instead of hurting him and Izaya had lit his cigarette instead of dissing him. They were older now, they were past their mid-twenties, life had changed them and neither had overcome their trauma. In reality, they hadn’t even begun to learn how to properly live with it, let alone overcome it.

“Your hair’s a mess, Shizu-chan,” Izaya commented, breaking the deafening silence.

“Yours isn’t better.” Shizuo countered, frowning.

“I didn’t let it reach my shoulders though. It’s so weird to see you with your natural hair colour. You’d been bleaching it since we were 15.” Izaya smiled, teasing a bit, but not in a way that would upset Shizuo “I can cut it for you if you want.” Izaya grinned and Shizuo gave him a look.

“Sure, when pigs fly.” Shizuo grunted and huffed “I’m going back.”

“I’ll go with you,” Izaya said, taking the hint. He didn’t want to be left alone in there either and it was obvious that Shizuo wanted him to come along.

* * *

The rest of the fair’s workers arrived in the afternoon and were met with absolute chaos which led many to think that Izaya Orihara was back. That kind of destruction was the trademark of his and Shizuo Heiwajima’s fights. They went to complain with Shinra, their boss, who assured them that they wouldn’t lose any money and that everything was being taken care of to replace the damaged property by the following week. In the meantime, they could stay home.

Nobody was truly upset by the chaos, even though they didn’t say it out loud. The weird sense of nostalgia was comforting as was the break from the sameness of everyday life. Anything for a bit of excitement.

Simon, the Russian Sushi seller, was particularly happy to see Izaya when he went to find him. His stand had been unscathed, so he could still work as Shizuo helped the cleaning team get rid of the destroyed property. It was only right that he did.

“Izaya!” Simon called happily when his eyes fell on him and when he spoke, he spoke in Russian “You’re back. Good to see you. You look like you haven’t eaten in days.” He said with the seriousness that came only when he spoke his mother tongue.

“Guess I missed your Russian Sushi so much I couldn’t eat properly,” Izaya replied in Russian, smiling up at the massive man.

“Make sure to eat properly, now that you’re here.” Simon told him “If you want to go up there again, you have to.”

Izaya snorted and shook his head.

“Simon, I’m not going to climb up there.”

Simon stared down at him.

“Many reasons,” Izaya responded vaguely. Simon shook his head.

“No.”

“No?”

“No, absolutely not.” Simon stated firmly “Vorona wouldn’t want that.”

“Vorona is still alive, Simon, and she doesn’t give a shit if I do it or not,” Izaya told him matter-of-factly.

“Did she say that?”

“No, but some things don’t need to be said.” Izaya scoffed and looked around, kind of regretting going to see his old friend.

“This isn’t one of those things,” Simon countered “you can’t put words in her mouth.”

“I’m sure she wants me to be very happy deep down in the bottom of her heart,” Izaya said sarcastically “after I ruined her life.”

“You saved her, you moron. You saved her life.”

Izaya clenched his fists inside his pockets and flared his nostrils.

“Good to see you, too, Simon. I gotta go.” Izaya said and before Simon could stop him, he’d already dashed away from him and was out of earshot. He was shaking with poorly concealed fury. What the fuck did he know about anything? Izaya needed to sit down a bit, trying to calm his mind. Memories of that day, flashes of red, the post falling, his reaction to pull Vorona back, his reaction to hold her tightly as she agonised and clung to him for dear life, hooking his arm to that burning metal bar, Kida on the ground, 30 metres bellow them, Shizuo screaming, the flames, everything collapsing around him. Then they were saved. Vorona was taken care of. Her legs were crushed as her spine was fractured and while they could heal the bones on her legs, she was told right off the bat that the likelihood of her ever walking again was less than 1% and even then, she’d not be able to move around freely.

And Izaya had seen her, on the day she’d left. He’d been the only person to see her and it became apparent that it was only because her brother wanted to thank him for not letting her die. They’d be going back to Russia after she got checked by other specialists. She hadn’t wanted to see anybody, hadn’t wanted to be seen like that. Simon had the nerve to tell him he couldn’t put words in anybody’s mouth when the words had been said clearly to him,

“I wish you’d have let me die, Izaya-san.”

That was all she’d said to him. Not a thank you. She’d told him she’d rather be dead. Her brother had started crying but hadn’t said anything as he thanked him again and pushed her wheelchair away. At that moment Izaya was still numb from what had happened, feeling like he was standing outside his own body but those words reached him and the conclusion was obvious: he’d ruined her life. Even if she wasn’t dead, he’d ruined her life. Her dream had always been to be a performer, and she’d been gifted with a lithe, flexible body that allowed her to fulfill that dream and he’d destroyed it.

He was lost when he stood before the pile of ashes of what had been the circus building where he’d lived since he was a child. Then Shizuo had shown up and decided to blame him for what had happened when he told him he was leaving.

‘I hate you.’ Shizuo had told him and that one had stung more than he expected it to. It was obvious that Shizuo didn’t like him. On that moment, though, standing before that pile of ashes with blood in his hands, those words hurt him more than hearing Vorona say she wished she was dead. Izaya wished he was dead too.

“Are you okay, Izayan?”

Erika’s voice made him jolt and look around wildly. He saw her and Walker stand there, looking worried.

“Um… yeah, yeah. I’m…” Izaya stammered standing up. He staggered and swayed, feeling lightheaded. Walker reached his hands and he held onto his arm to steady himself “thanks.”

“It’s alright…” Walker said quietly as Izaya let go of him “did you go to see Simon?”

“I did.” Izaya snorted and rubbed his eyes with his fingers “Shouldn’t have.”

“Yeah.” Erika chuckled “But you’re a big masochist. We told you it was a bad idea. He thinks everyone deals with that kind of thing the same.”

“Maybe if I’d been to the war, like him I wouldn’t have been so messed up.”

“You said you’d be coming tomorrow.” Erika pointed out “We didn’t expect you today.”

“I managed to catch a ride today.” Izaya sighed with a smile.

The only people he’d stayed in touch with had been Erika and Walker and the reason for that was that they weren’t taken seriously by the others. Even if they decided to say where he was and what he was doing, nobody would believe them. They knew that and didn’t care. Izaya liked them for that. They were just living their lives like a big play, clowning the pain away.

“And the first thing you did was find Shizuo-san?” Walker asked, mildly disgruntled.

“Not really, no. I just happened to arrive when he was smoking outside. He looked like he was seeing a ghost and I felt the same,” Izaya shrugged and rubbed his forehead, brushing his long fringe out of his eyes “and then I taunted him, and he started throwing shit at me.” He chortled. Erika and Walked laughed a little as well.

“Seems like fate.” Erika teased and Izaya gave her a look “I’ll stop.” She lowered her head, respectfully.

“Thank you.”

“It does feel like fate though” Walker grinned and Izaya smacked his side, which made him laugh.

“You two spend too much time together.”

“Must be the whole dating thing,” Erika told him with a smile, raising her head. Izaya looked at her, blinking and looking at Walker who nodded.

“Well, congratulations,” Izaya said with a smile “you’re perfect for each other.”

“And you and Shizu-chan are perfect for each other, too, you’re just too stubborn to see it,” Erika said and Izaya groaned which made the clown couple laugh.

Perfect, sure, a perfect mess, that’s what they were. When he’d left he’d vaguely thought about going to Russia and hiding somewhere, maybe joining a local circus act and staying there. The problem was that he’d been unable to let go of anything and the first chance he’d gotten, he’d called Erika and had kept in touch with her and Walker those four years. He needed to know how everyone was doing but especially, how Shizuo was doing. Erika didn’t tease him too much when he asked for him. Then he’d seen him and confirmed that she had been downplaying how poorly he’d been doing. He wasn’t out of shape, Izaya wasn’t, either, but he was a mess. They both were. Neither had overcome that day at all.

They were stuck together in a loop of agony, guilt, and anger.

* * *


	3. and time goes through us, shaking us to the core, and in its warmth we come undone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was no joy in those acts. No life, only beauty. In a flurry of nightmares and emotions, in the dread of changing hearts, truth was found, and honesty overflowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter of this old thing. It's a right mess. The pacing of what I wrote 8 years ago was a disaster and I tried to fix it a bit but I'm not doing this extremely carefully. Just carefully enough to try to showcase what I originally wanted to showcase and mostly failed. They perform for the first time in this chapter, see, and it's a mess because they're not doing what they like. They've changed because time changes people, ya know? There are a lot of messy emotions here and the pacing is still all over the place but that's kind of the point, I guess. There's tenderness here and my God is it wildly ooc for the canon but by God I will die on this tender shizaya AU hill.
> 
> Thanks for being here and thanks for your feedback. Hope you vibe with this mess.

* * *

Izaya noticed, over the following days, that Shizuo got up before the sunrise. He knew he did because he got up early as well. Shizuo always left the door to his dressing room open when he got out to go shower. He was either too trusting or he just didn’t care and as much as Izaya in the past would have loved to mess with him, current Izaya wouldn’t. They didn’t speak to each other throughout that hazy time span. Izaya couldn’t tell how many days had passed but he knew it hadn’t been longer than a week. He’d arrived on a Monday and the circus worked on Wednesdays, Fridays, and weekends. Izaya remembered that people didn’t come in a lot on weekdays, so it wasn’t weekend yet. It was probably Friday. He couldn’t be sure. One of the shows had been cancelled because one of the hoopers had twisted her wrist. Injuries were taken seriously there, and she was one of their main acts at that time. Everyone knew Anri Sonohara, the stunning hooper.

The circus was a full-time commitment. It was fulfilling, no doubt, but you didn’t get time for much else aside from your job. He saw that Shizuo was going to practice every day with his sisters and after a little chat with Shinra, he decided to resume what he’d been doing in Russia. Some regular acrobatic stunts maybe add some _pizzazz_ to it, he’d joked. The four years he’d spent in Russia with the travelling circus had been great in that he’d learnt to make the most out of the least resources. That travelling circus was not rich like the Sturlson Circus, one of the biggest names in the industry. It famous worldwide and competed annually for the Golden Clown at the International Circus Festival of Monte-Carlo and having snatched it three times over the course of its history. They hadn’t participated in the last four years. The little travelling circus in Russia barely had a name.

Shinra agreed that he would be fantastic as a regular acrobat and they arranged for him to have a one-man only act. Izaya had to shut down Shinra’s stubborn attempts to get him to climb that damn trapeze again. Shizuo wouldn’t climb, he’d told him, and neither would he.

Izaya assured Shinra that he was more than ready to perform. He could just do the number he’d perfected in Russia, no problem. It was an aerial silk act, he told Shinra, who was mildly surprised. That was a strength act and Izaya didn’t look very strong then.

Yet, he pulled it perfectly. He focused on making it look beautiful and effortless as opposed to what men usually did in the silks acts, where they’d focus on showcasing how strong they were. Izaya didn’t look strong, even though he was, so there was no use trying to go down that route. His act was beautiful, focused on his androgynous-looking figure, and the gracefulness of his movements paired with a romantic, peaceful tune. 

And Shizuo looked on, mesmerised, from the backstage. Izaya wasn’t flying but he was up in the air with the white lights reflecting on his shimmering silver costume, showcasing the same effortless strength and grace Shizuo remembered. However, there was a softness in his movements, a mature sensuality that wasn’t familiar. He wrapped himself in those crimson silks and spun slowly out of them with his eyes closed. The longer hair enhanced the androgyny of his physical form and Shizuo saw that he wasn’t smiling. There was no joy. Yet the public seemed to be enthralled by it and clapped wildly when he was done with a flip, landing on both feet and bowing before leaving the ring.

Izaya then got to see Shizuo’s act with his sisters in the ground acrobatics. The number was stunning. His sisters were ridiculously flexible and Shizuo was ridiculously strong. He could juggle with them effortlessly, which was terrifyingly beautiful. The highlight of the act was them curling up together into the shape of a ball and allowing him to spin them around with his feet like they weighed nothing. He did what he had to do flawlessly, but there was exactly zero life in him as he did it. Izaya felt that because while he could make his act look beautiful, he also felt zero while he did it. He wasn’t sure if the audience could feel it too. If they did, then they enjoyed it. Maybe it was schadenfreude.

That was the circus though. It was the beautiful and the ugly, the strength, the weakness, the danger, the misery, and the joy. It was humanity in flashing lights and glowing costumes, a romanticised version of the human experience and that’s what people wanted to see.

* * *

Shizuo was showering when Izaya walked into the bathroom. They weren’t alone in there, the showers were a common space like you’d expect to see in a workplace like that. Izaya glanced for a moment at Shizuo’s naked backside and saw that he hadn't changed much. His muscles were still taut and strong as he remembered them. Maybe he’d lost body fat, but he looked tough. Izaya sighed deeply as he stripped and got under an empty shower, putting his shower supplies on the little ledge that ran across the wall for that purpose. 

Nothing was said in the shower aside from vague comments about the show, small mistakes that were made, that didn’t seem to be relevant enough to mope about. Izaya got some compliments on his act and thanked them vaguely for it. Shizuo was quietly washing his hair with hopelessly shaky hands. He was on edge that day and seeing Izaya’s beautiful silks act had brought back those ever-present memories full-force and he felt himself crumble. The hot water hit his back like needles and he glanced at Izaya’s naked body, shrouded in vapour. The muscles of his body seemed to be sculpted on a particularly delicate and thin slab of marble and it was no wonder he’d felt lighter in his arms. There was no fat in his body, which was unhealthy as he’d been told, or rather, as he’d been scolded for by Shinra. 

Shizuo couldn’t stand being there anymore and finished his shower as quickly as he could and then left, rolled up in a towel, going out into the cold of the hallway like that, clutching his shower supplies.

Izaya finished his shower quickly and left soon after. He’d felt Shizuo’s eyes on him and he’d saw him tremble. There was no doubt about it, Shizuo was on the breaking point and he didn’t want him to break. He didn’t care about him blowing up in his face, something he frankly thought was unlikely at that time, but he needed to talk to him even though he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say to him. He didn’t feel real, either, and the only thing that had kept him going all those years had been an almost permanent state of dissociation. Shizuo seemed to be stuck in the past, unable to dissociate in a way that protected him from going insane, unlike Izaya. He was also stuck in the past but dissociating helped him pretend to be alright.

So, he made up his mind after thinking about it for over two hours. It was half-past one in the morning when he left his dressing room to go knock on Shizuo’s door, which was down the same hallway as his.

What he didn’t count on was finding Shizuo stood still outside his door. How long had this mess of a man been standing there in the cold?

They were stood there in their sleeping attire which consisted of mismatched old clothes on both parties, staring at each other. Shizuo looked awkwardly at him, unsure.

“Fucking hell,” Izaya sighed and clicked his tongue “get in.” He gestured to his door, leaving it open.

“What?” Shizuo asked, wary and Izaya lost his patience.

“Get in, I said,” he told him and walked back to go to his dressing room. He was relieved to hear Shizuo following him.

Then they were in his dressing room. Izaya hadn’t touched it much. It looked pretty much like what his old one had looked like, save for the armchair, which was red, instead of green. 

Shizuo didn’t know what had compelled him to go find Izaya but maybe the mess of his thoughts and the looming episode he felt coming. Seeing Izaya perform again, seeing his familiar body move like that had triggered him like nothing else and he couldn’t handle it on his own. 

Shizuo had loved to see his flyers swing among the flickering lights, knowing he’d been the one to make them fly. He’d loved to watch Izaya, especially. That annoying guy who enjoyed pushing him to the point where he’d completely lose his mind and start flinging things at him. Yeah, he’d enjoyed watching him the most, despite how incredibly talented all the others were. The others always showed hesitation jumping to his hands or when he had to throw them, Izaya never did. There was absolute fluidity in his movements, strength, and confidence. He didn’t feel it in the others simply because they didn’t seem to trust him. Well, turned out that they’d been right on that one, hadn’t they? 

He was stood there inside Izaya’s dressing room for a while, completely out of it.

“Take a seat, please,” Izaya told him pointing to the armchair and taking the chair in front of his vanity. Shizuo needed a moment to react but then sat down “Right,” Izaya continued and paused a little “you were stood there for a while. You’re cold.” He stood up again and dragged his heater towards them. It was an oil one, the kind that isn’t a fire hazard. He dragged it towards the armchair, between himself and Shizuo, before sitting back down on the vanity’s chair “There, it should be better like this.”

“It is,” Shizuo said vaguely and brushed back his fringe. His long hair was untied and falling in fluffy, unruly locks, already passing his shoulders.

“I was going to find you, you know?” Izaya told him and saw his eyes turn to him “I felt like… I don’t know, I wanted to talk to you. Seeing you perform was cringeworthy. You looked dead out there.” 

“Wish I was,” Shizuo snorted and leant back, closing his eyes. He was exhausted beyond all reason but he was on edge and couldn’t stop shaking. He could barely feel his hands and they weren’t even cold. Just numb. Izaya didn’t look much better, what with the dark circles under his eyes. But it was Shizuo who was on the verge of breaking down at that moment.

“Me too, but we can’t afford to die, can we?”, Izaya said back, not hiding how upset he was. Shizuo opened his eyes and looked at him _“Can we?”,_ Izaya repeated.

“No,” was the only possible answer to that question and was what Shizuo said in return. Of course, they couldn’t. Dying wasn’t an option, not after having let Kida die. He had to live with that. He had to carry that weight for as long as his body allowed him to.

“I know what you think of me,” Izaya continued calmly, despite his racing heart, “I’m a bastard who enjoys pissing you off, I’m a bastard who wreaks havoc because he thinks it’s funny, I’m a bastard who doesn’t respect anyone, I know all that,” he enumerated the things he knew Shizuo thought of him with Shizuo’s eyes still on him “and maybe you were right about some of that, back then.”

Shizuo shook his head and finally broke.

“You’ve changed, Izaya,” he muttered and looked away. He felt his lower lip tremble, which made his heart skip a painful beat and made him feel even more nervous. He put a hand over his mouth and looked away from him. Izaya stared. “I haven’t. I’m still the same,” he choked out and lost his reason to the memories “and he slipped right out of my hand, right out of this hand” Izaya looked at the trembling hand “and the first, the first thing I did when I saw you, was to try to hurt you” he laughed miserably “I’m really, I’m a fucking monster.”

Shizuo had started crying in silence, convulsively, curling up over himself. Izaya looked on, lost for words, seeing that absurdly strong man look completely vulnerable. He started to hyperventilate. Izaya didn’t know what to do. He’d never had to deal with anyone else’s breakdowns, but he’d had some himself. And there was one thing he always wished he had when that happened, and never had – someone there to hold him and tell him he wasn’t alone. That was the reason he’d wanted to go find Shizuo. He didn’t want him to feel alone because he knew how painful it was to have nobody on your side.

Izaya didn’t know if what he was doing was the right thing to do and his heart was beating painfully against his ribs, but he did it anyway. He got up from the chair and walked up to Shizuo. Kneeling in front of him he grabbed his wrists, knowing fully well that if Shizuo didn’t want to uncover his face, he’d be unable to do shit, but the surprise made Shizuo uncover his face himself. Izaya’s hands were still on his wrists when he stared at him, with red cheeks and eyes full of tears.

“You’re not alone, Shizuo,” he told him and heard his own voice tremble “I’m here. If you want to, you can hold me.”

Shizuo was lost and he did, he held him. He pulled his wrists out of Izaya’s hands and put them around him instead, pulling him into a shaky hug. Izaya knelt between his legs on the armchair and let him cry on his chest while holding him around the neck.

Shizuo cried until his tears were dry and he finally felt that Izaya was there and was alive, with a warm body and a beating heart inside his chest. They didn’t know how long they were there, but it didn’t matter. Izaya only moved a bit when he felt Shizuo’s breathing go back to normal. He didn’t let go of him.

“Feeling better?” Izaya asked, bringing his hands to Shizuo’s warm and wet cheeks and making him look up at him. Shizuo’s pleading, puffy eyes told him that he was but that he was a wreck. They both were. Izaya’s eyes were wet too. For the first time in four years, both felt like they’d taken a step towards healing.

“I am,” Shizuo muttered with a snort and Izaya smiled a little in return “I didn’t think you’d come to me.”

“You said it yourself,” Izaya said quietly, “I’ve changed. The rest of what you said was rubbish, but that bit was true. You’ve changed too. Look at what you’re doing right now. Could you have held me like this back then?”, he asked mildly with a tired smile. Shizuo was looking up at him, lost and miserable, seeking comfort in the last person he thought he would seek comfort in. Yet, Izaya was the only person who could comfort him at all. They were in that hell together. They were both responsible for what had happened, and neither was over it. Maybe they’d never be over it, and maybe they weren’t supposed to. Maybe they were just meant to learn to live with it, the best that they could.

“I couldn’t, no,” Shizuo agreed hoarsely. His head was aching like mad and he huffed, leaning his cheek against Izaya’s chest again. He smelled nice and warm. Soft, too. His body was tough and sinewy, yet soft. His hands ran carefully up to his back, feeling the flesh under his white sweater, feeling Izaya tense up a little under the touch and his heart beat faster “sorry…”, he muttered and brought them back down to his waist.

“Don’t be,” Izaya said, and breathed in sharply “touch me if you want,” he said vaguely, his mind reeling “I want it too,” he muttered licking his lips. Being sleep-deprived, mentally unstable, and exhausted was worse than getting shitfaced or doing drugs but the difference was that they’d remember what they'd done “You’re knackered though, so am I. I’d want you to fuck me,” he started, his voice quiet “but only when you’re on your right mind and thinking clearly, not like this,” he whispered and the truth tumbled out of his lips “I want you.”

Shizuo knew what he meant but his brain was processing the full extent of what it meant. He and Izaya having sex could never be just a meaningless fling. That simple suggestion changed everything. How had they gone from a PTSD episode to that? Well, emotional deregulation was a real issue that neither had control over. 

“You do?” Shizuo asked hoarsely and looked up. Izaya looked down at his face and tucked the locks of long brown hair behind his ears, swallowing hard and nodding. Shizuo didn’t have a lot to say to him leaning down and kissing him on the lips and all he did was respond. A sharp current of emotions coursed through them when they kissed and kept kissing, melting into each other. There was no urgency in the kiss, only poorly concealed emotions that they were only then being honest about. Shizuo’s hands ran up Izaya’s back, under his sweater, palming the soft skin and feeling him shiver under the touch. His hands were rough, Izaya thought, calloused and harsh, yet gentle when he touched him. Careful, tender, honest. They kissed long and gently. There was tongue, just a little. They calmed their minds like that, by letting themselves feel each other, by letting themselves be there, in the present, with each other.

The kiss let them touch their emotions, scratch the surface of what they felt for each other, of what could be. Shizuo’s gentle hands were the certainty Izaya needed. He could feel his heart in that touch, a metaphorical heart that he wore in his sleeve. A heart that was so hurt and tender that it gushed out everything at once, in chaotic bursts that nobody could understand. Yet, there he was, letting Izaya kiss him on the lips, and kissing him back with that same heart. Sweet and gentle. Not a monster. That was the real Shizuo and Izaya knew it. He’d known it all along. Yet he’d been too immature to think of nurturing it because the explosive, monstrous anger was so much fun. It no longer was. He’d grown out of that and Shizuo had grown too. 

Time had passed through them. They thought that they were trapped in the past, but as it turned out, they weren’t, not completely. They’d moved on from the people they’d been and in the rawness of their wounds, their trauma, they’d found honesty.

Izaya was the one to stop the kiss and he did so slowly, leaning his forehead against his, watching him close his eyes to the touch and closing his own in response. There was silent communication then. Maybe Izaya was right. Maybe some things didn’t have to be said. The future was an empty canvas, and they could paint it however they wanted. 

* * *


	4. and maybe we can still fly, who knows?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If an idle mind is the devil's workshop, a tired one is the devil's dancefloor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are again for one more installment of this old thing. This chapter needed a full rewrite. There's very little in it that even so much as resembles the original one. It's still a mess of jumbled feelings though. I'm sure there are weird phrasings and whatnot, but there should be little typos. I may not be thinking too much about what I'm doing, but I'm doing it wholeheartedly and I want it to be readable. I've been running it through a free typo checker thing. When I read it, to me it feels like what my own mind feels like and I'm not sure how that feels to you, but yeah. Projecting.
> 
> There are Frank Sinatra songs in here and I mean, it's expected, innit? I recommend listening to them.
> 
> Well, thanks for reading, hope you enjoy it and I'll hopefully be back tomorrow, the last day of the godforsaken year 2020.

* * *

The thing with them is that they didn’t know how to deal with emotions. That much was clear. Plus, neither had ever been in a relationship nor seen what a healthy relationship was supposed to look like. Celty and Shinra had been together for many years, but that didn’t feel like a good example. Shinra worshipped the floor Celty walked on to the point where she had to shut him down sometimes. Plus, her head came off, which was _kind of_ odd. Erika and Walker were a thing, and a very nice thing at that, but not a realistic example for them. Neither Erika nor Walker were emotionally unstable. They were oddballs but otherwise neurotypical. 

Izaya was thinking about that in the morning when he woke up and found that Shizuo had already gotten up. They’d silently agreed to share Izaya’s bed for the night. It was a small bed but it fit them both, despite it being a tight squeeze. 

Izaya realised that he’d slept five whole hours without waking up a single time. Then he remained there, looking at the ceiling. And thoughts came in from the night as he sat up and mused about them, letting his brain start working again before getting up. He didn't want to put off going to find Shizuo.

After using the bathroom and brushing his teeth, washing some of the tiredness off his face, he went outside where he knew Shizuo would be. It was past 8 am and of course, nobody else was up yet. Even waking up later than usual, they got up before everyone else. Nobody had to be up that early. The funfair only worked in the afternoon and practice was also in the afternoon. It was the weekend, too, so they’d have to perform in the evening.

Shizuo was where he’d expected him to be – behind the circus building, smoking. Izaya leant against the wall after closing the door. It was cold, and he hadn’t put on a coat. Neither had Shizuo, who looked back when he heard the door close.

The morning was bright, the fog was starting to fade, and the sun was already visible above the trees.

“’ Morning,” Shizuo said, and his voice came our hoarse as he blew a cloud of smoke to the side.

“Good morning,” Izaya greeted back and felt his lips curl into a smile. Odd but not unexpected, “sleep well?”

Seeing Shizuo smile at him was something he’d have a hard time getting used to, no doubt, but something he’d very much enjoy being surprised by. Growing older had softened him, had softened them both, and he couldn’t lie and pretend he didn’t like it.

“I did, yes.”

“Yet you’re up early, still,” Izaya pointed out as Shizuo dragged in more smoke, that he held for a bit before blowing away. He shook his head lightly.

“Got here just now. Went to the loo first,” he showed him the cigarette, which was barely half-smoked to prove what he was saying.

“I didn’t feel you get up.”

“I made sure you didn’t,” Shizuo responded, quietly “you were sleeping soundly.”

Izaya sighed and smiled, looking at the bright morning sky. It was a cold blue November sky. It seemed friendly and inviting, yet distant. They were both in silence for as long as it took Shizuo to finish his smoke and throw the butt on the floor, stepping on it with his flip-flop, which, Izaya noticed, he was wearing with socks.

They were stood there looking at each other, with uncertainty hanging over their heads. Shizuo wasn’t sure at all about what to do about his tender, scary emotions. Emotions that they could barely understand. Most of all, though, he knew he wanted Izaya and, of all things wrong with him, that wasn’t one of them. Wanting Izaya was right, and he didn’t question it because he felt that it was. 

“Come here,” Izaya called, breaking the silence and beckoning him over with his hands. Shizuo obeyed and walked up to where he was, standing in front of him. Izaya reached his hands up to his face and pulled him in for a kiss. Shizuo held his waist and kissed him back, closing his eyes. That felt right, that felt true and real, and neither cared about their old racing hearts. Izaya was the one to pull away and look at him, smiling a bit through his puffy, tired eyes “this is something you can do. I can get used to the taste of smoke.”

Shizuo looked at him in silence.

“Does the taste bother you?”, he asked quietly.

Izaya tucked Shizuo’s hair behind his ears and lightly shook his head. He didn’t like smoke on his face, Shizuo remembered that. Izaya saw him carefully blow the smoke away from him, as he’d always done. He’d never smoked near people who didn’t like the smoke. 

They used to be on terrible terms with each other while on the ground, but Shizuo respected him. Izaya regretted his immaturity. He’d teased Shizuo as much as he could. He was like that back then. He liked to wreak havoc and not follow basic rules for socialisation for his own entertainment. And Shizuo had not only told him right away that he was annoying, but he'd also told him that he didn’t like him. That had stung. Izaya saw Shizuo being nice to other people but not to him. It was his fault, and he knew it, but he wasn’t mature enough to change his behaviour. Shizuo had anger management issues, and Izaya took advantage of that to pass the idea that he was a monster. It was cruel but, at the time, it felt like Shizuo was cruel, too. Maybe they both were, or had been, cruel. For over 10 years, from their teenage years through their early twenties, they’d been at each other’s throats and that time was gone. It didn’t matter now. It couldn’t be erased, not after everything that had happened. Maybe they could make some of it right now. Maybe.

“No, not really,” he told him after a moment of quiet introspection, looking at his eyes, and sighed, smiling, “it doesn’t bother me at all, Shizu-chan.”

Shizuo smiled a little, hearing the old pet name, which so annoyed him. Or used to annoy him. It no longer did.

“Let’s go back in though,” Izaya said, “it’s cold out here. Maybe get something to eat, we could use some food.”

“You’re right,” Shizuo agreed, and sighed, as they let go of each other and went back inside.

* * *

The shift in their relationship didn’t go unnoticed, of course, if anything because they sat together at lunch, and everyone could see that. They didn’t talk much. They were just together, side by side, close. 

Their chemistry had been something many people aside from Erika, the match-maker wannabe, had noticed. They slotted together like two oddly shaped pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. One of those that had a solid colour all around a small picture in the middle. What picture could it be? Maybe a blob. Or one of those blotches that look different to everyone who looks at them.

“I don’t want to be weird,” Shinra said when everyone was going in the ring for practice, and he saw Izaya and Shizuo walking together “but have you two settled your differences?”

“You’re always weird,” Izaya said mildly, already expecting it, seeing Shizuo tense up and frown beside him “but get your hopes down. We may have had a word or two with each other, but that doesn’t mean we’ll climb up there.”

“You’re the spokesman, are you?” Shinra grinned, challenging, looking at Shizuo, who had clenched his fists in his pockets.

“I am,” Izaya stated, glancing at Shizuo, seeing his look and hoping that he’d keep it cool. He was trying to keep it cool himself, “seeing that I’m the one speaking and he’s quiet for reasons that are well-known to you,” he said pointedly and Shinra hissed, making a face and whispering a very disingenuous ‘ _ouch_ ’, “so speaking for both of us, I’m going to ask you to shut the fuck up with that. If we change our minds, we’ll let you know.”

“That’s better than a no,” Shinra grinned, clearly unaffected by the bile in Izaya’s voice, “I’ll keep my hopes up!” He winked at them and then strutted away to go find Celty. She didn’t practice a lot. She didn’t have to. Usually, she just sat in the VIP area with Shinra and watched the other artists practice, and that’s what they did on that day.

“Feeling calm?” Izaya asked Shizuo before they got on the ring to go practice. The silks were hanging there for him, and Mairu and Kururi were already stretching along with the others. Anri was back and seemed to have recovered fully from her wrist injury. Kasuka was alone in a corner with his assistants practicing the tricks. It was just like back then, only that two people were missing.

Shizuo breathed in heavily and nodded as he got an elastic to tie his hair back.

“I am,” he said, “I’m calm.”

“Good,” Izaya said and started stretching as they got on the ring and looked at his sisters. The smile that bloomed on his face was a fond one, and he didn’t mind it, “still can’t believe how much they’ve grown, those little shits.”

Shizuo couldn’t contain a smile that again didn’t go unnoticed by anyone. He didn’t mind it being noticed. Those emotions didn’t hurt as much as anger did. 

* * *

And they practiced their evening act. All artists had a handful of different acts that they practiced for each day. Since their circus was a permanent one, they had to have a wide repertoire, to keep people coming weekly. They had people who really did come in weekly. A ridiculous amount of people, too. Given the chance, some people would be at the circus every day. It was just too addictive, the serotonin boost it gave you, to be there, watching the performances in real-time, connecting with the emotions in each act.

Practice went well, and so did the evening performance. Izaya did a similar performance to the previous day, which was fine since it was new, and most regulars hadn’t seen it yet. Some weekenders recognised him by name and his act was again a hit despite its hopeless lack of life. Shizuo’s act with his sisters was slightly different but not enough to be worthy of notice because, while he looked slightly more perked up, it still looked like a chore. It was what it was.

And then they were off to shower, eat something, and go to bed. 

“You know where I am,” Izaya said quietly when he got up from the table “come find me if you want.”

Shizuo did despite himself and the scary flurry of unfamiliar feelings. 

A while later, after everyone was already in bed, he snuck out of his dressing room and walked over to Izaya’s. It felt pretty stupid to sneak around like that when both were grown adults, but it also felt necessary. It was an unspoken agreement that they’d keep whatever was going on between them a secret, especially from Shinra.

He rapped lightly at the door and heard Izaya’s quiet invitation. He walked in and quietly closed the door behind him. Then he stood there like an idiot, unsure of what to do. If only being hopeless was a gift.

Izaya was sitting at his vanity, and it looked like he’d been cutting his hair. No, scratch that, he’d _actually_ been doing that. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, which made sense since it’d be easier to brush off the hair like that. The floor around him was littered with the clippings of his black hair and he was holding a pair of scissors. Shizuo stared in awe at how well he’d done it. It looked like he’d gotten a professional haircut. He'd just sat in front of a vanity with a couple of mirrors, trusting his own eyes and the steadiness of his hand.

He’d left a reasonable fringe and had done an undercut that looked lovely with his straight hair cut in a sort of bowl-like fashion. He hadn’t shaved the sides or the back, just trimmed them shorter than the rest. 

“Just in time,” he said with a smile, brushing the hair off his shoulders and chest “any on my back?”

“No,” Shizuo responded quietly. Izaya hummed and reached for his sweater that he shoved down his head before shaking his head and ruffling his freshly cut hair. Then he looked at Shizuo, who was still stood by the door, like an idiot.

“It looks good,” Shizuo complimented, bashfully, rubbing the side of his neck. Izaya smiled.

“Thank you. Now you see that I'm good at this. You have to let me do yours one of these days,” he said and winked. Shizuo sighed and stood there in silence, without moving, kind of lost in thoughts that made no sense.

“Will I have to tell you to take a seat every time or…,” Izaya gestured vaguely with his hand, mildly exasperated. Shizuo sighed a little and shook his head before taking the armchair. Izaya, once again, was sat at the vanity.

They fell silent, and the silence was heavy and full of quiet thoughts and feelings that neither could voice at that time.

“I’m assuming we’re not fucking tonight,” Izaya said out of the blue, hoping to shake up the mood a little and, if anything, get Shizuo to react. Frankly, he wasn’t in the mood, and he was pretty sure Shizuo wasn’t, either. And really, it wasn’t that they didn’t want that, it was only that they didn’t want to do it in the state they were in. Their reckless days were over, they’d been over for four years. That wasn’t the only reason they weren’t going for it headfirst, though. Those feelings were too fragile and pure, like a new-born animal who’s able the stand on its feet and walk but needs to be nurtured and protected.

Shizuo looked at him, and Izaya saw his cheeks get slightly red. 

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Shizuo said quietly, and Izaya smiled and snorted at that. Shizuo’s heart was a little calmer that day and he smiled too “why are you smiling?”

“Why are _you_?” Izaya asked in return, his smile turning into a chuckle. He saw Shizuo’s smile turn into a chuckle as well, and before they could stop it, both were chuckling, covering their mouths. 

“My God, we’re a mess,” Izaya said and had to wipe a couple of stubborn tears off his eyes. Shizuo was also wiping his eyes as he overcame his fit of chuckles too.

“We are,” Shizuo agreed, hoarsely and looked at him with a mildly wary look “did you want to?”

Izaya chortled and shook his head.

“It’s not that I don’t want it,” he said with a sigh, standing up and walking up to him “it’s that I do but would rather wait a bit. Our current headspace isn’t the right one for that.” He explained. Shizuo was thankful that Izaya was so smart. He was able to make sense of the things he felt himself but didn’t have the words for, "Spread your legs,” Izaya said with a cheeky smile. Shizuo blinked, confused, “got you there”, he winked “I just want to sit on your lap. Can I?”

“Oh,” Shizuo said and looked up at him, with the pleading look he had on his face when he was confused or embarrassed “sure, go ahead.” 

Izaya sat sideways between his spread legs and leant against his shoulder, putting his arms around his torso. Shizuo held him gently around the shoulders and waist. 

Again, silence fell between them but while it was heavy, it was comfortable. Most important though, it was comforting, which was what both were seeking.

They fell asleep like that, right there, without saying another word. 

* * *

Shizuo woke up a couple of hours later with a stiff neck and sore back. He checked Izaya’s digital clock to see that it was still just past three. Izaya was still asleep, holding loosely onto him, breathing onto his neck. And a silly thought crossed his sleep-deprived, barely functioning mind. He knew he could carry him to bed, but he also knew that if he tried to do that, he’d most definitely wake up. He glanced at the sleeping man in his arms, the dark circles under his eyes, the pale complexion of his skin, and was sat there, trying to make his brain work. A hard task normally, an even harder task then. 

“I can hear you thinking…” he heard Izaya’s hoarse voice against his neck and then heard him groan. He was mildly surprised.

“Didn’t mean to wake you up,” Shizuo mumbled, his voice coming out raspy.

“I sleep light,” Izaya mumbled “and this position is awkward for sleeping,” he said and yawned against Shizuo’s chest, sniffling “terrible for your back, too.” He said and brought a hand up to rub his eyes “I wouldn’t have minded if you’d carried me to bed,” he finally told him with a sleepy smile. Shizuo felt like a deer caught in headlights “I can tell you’re into that sort of thing.”

He got up from Shizuo’s lap and stretched. Shizuo yawned and stretched as well. It really was an awkward position. They should have just taken the bed right away but being a tired mess leads to questionable whims.

“Fuck, it’s still so early,” Izaya groused, scratching his fresh undercut and being mildly surprised by the feeling. Then his eyes fell on the hair he hadn’t swept from the floor and snorted, “I was wondering where my hair had gone. My brain. Anyway,” he smacked his lips “I’m not sure if I want to sleep, been functioning on this much sleep for so long. I’m pretty much ready to go,” he joked and Shizuo sighed, shrugging. That was him too “I’ll boil some water. Tea?”

“Yeah,” Shizuo agreed and Izaya nodded. He got the electric kettle going and pulled out two mugs from the cupboard, right beside the minifridge.

“I don’t know how you take your tea,” Izaya smiled as he popped the teabags into the mugs “but I’m assuming you like it milky and cloying.”

Shizuo jutted out his lower lip a little and frowned ever so slightly. Izaya chuckled.

“Instead of getting upset that I’m teasing you about it, why don’t you try noticing that I remember that?” Izaya said mildly. Shizuo blinked and his heart raced a little. He was right, of course “See? You need to work on your observation skills, Shizu-chan.” Izaya said. He waited in silence, yawning a little and staring at the stereo. He didn’t remember having one in the past. The kettle clicking signing that it had finished boiling the water. He poured a full mug for himself because he took it black with no sugar, but for Shizuo he poured only half a mug of boiling water and got the milk from the fridge and filled the other half with milk “How many sugars?”

“Three…” Shizuo said and Izaya nodded and got an unopened pack of sugar cubes from the cupboard. He popped them in and got him a spoon. Then he handed him the mug and sat on his bed with the mug in his hands. He didn’t have to stir anything in but Shizuo did.

“Pros of taking it milky are that you get to drink it right away,” Izaya said conversationally, warming up his hands on the mug “there are no cons unless you don’t like it milky.”

Shizuo looked at him and smiled a little. It was true. He got to start sipping on it right away. It was great. Milky and sweet, just the way he liked his treats.

“Notice also,” Izaya continued. They both sucked at communication. They had to start somewhere, and Izaya was trying his best “I had both milk and sugar here when I use neither of those things personally.”

Shizuo blinked at his mug before staring at him, confused. Then why did he have them there? He asked him just that.

“Why did you have them then?”

“A hint,” Izaya started, patiently. Shizuo was kind of slow, but he had faith in him “I got them earlier today.”

“Okay…” Shizuo said with that confused look. Then the outstanding truth hit him, and he widened his eyes “oh, uh, for, for me?”

“I knew you’d get there,” Izaya replied, smiling and trying a sip of his tea. Still a bit hot, but he could sip slowly “I knew we’d be hanging out here since you stubbornly decided to keep that green armchair.”

Shizuo fell silent, staring at his milky tea. Izaya was right, he didn’t know why he knew, but he was right. He’d fought Shinra to keep the armchair. One would think he loved it but no, he hated it with every fibre of his being. It was a memento, though. It’d been there since before the fire, and his brain had commanded him to keep it at all costs.

“How do you know I was the one wanting to keep it?”, he asked quietly. Izaya snorted, sipping on his tea.

“I know what it’s like to do things to purposely hurt yourself, and I know what it feels like to be stuck in the past. We’re in hell together, Shizuo,” he explained and sniffled, looking up to face him “the difference, I guess, is that I’m aware.” He snorted and hoped that it made sense to Shizuo.

Shizuo stared at him, and it all clicked. That was it. 

There was no use trying to deny it; that armchair’s presence made him physically ache and sometimes caused such strong reactions, he had to remove himself from his dressing room.

“I see that you got there,” Izaya smiled “and I’m sure Shinra was upset by your insistence, tried to reason with you, and you told him to go fuck himself.”

“I didn’t tell him to go fuck himself…” Shizuo defended, and Izaya chuckled “maybe I should have,” Shizuo kept going and frowned taking a big sip of his milky tea “he’s, he’s so… I don’t know the words.”

“You should use words more,” Izaya said to him and saw his frown deepen, so he clarified “I mean that you need to talk more, not that you’re dumb. Words slip away if you don’t use them. You end up forgetting them.” 

That was an eloquent yet gentle and simple way to say that not socialising or using your voice makes the inherent chaos of existence consume you. That was what Izaya wanted to say. Language and words were what protected humans from the abyss of meaninglessness. He’d felt that in Russia for a while and had to fight against it, even if that meant becoming extremely proficient in Russian. 

“And I think the words you’re looking for are unempathetic and probably _dickhead_ ,” Izaya smiled and Shizuo hummed “he doesn’t get what you’re going through” he paused a little, sipping and rephrased that “what _we’re_ going through” that was better. Shizuo nodded. It was comforting to hear the plural and know he was understood. “And he can’t get it. Nobody can, really. What you feel is yours alone. We both have PTSD but our experiences are different. That’s a hard thing to do, really” he offered, vaguely “but it’s especially hard for someone with a completely cold head. He cares but it’s in a cold, socially expected way.”

“He likes Celty,” Shizuo muttered and Izaya snorted.

“In a very healthy way, no doubt,” he said sarcastically. Shizuo blinked, “he’s obsessed with her, Shizu-chan. That’s not healthy.”

“She doesn’t seem to mind it,” Shizuo said, trying to understand what exactly Izaya meant “sometimes she shuts it down but…”

“She’s not human,” Izaya said and sipped more on his comforting black tea “she doesn’t operate under human rules.”

“Fair,” Shizuo said and shrugged as he finished his tea and looked around for a place to put the empty mug. He got up and put it in the sink before sitting back down. Izaya was still not finished, but it didn’t matter. Neither wanted to go back to sleep anyway. A peaceful bonding moment felt like something they needed more at that time. It probably wasn’t, but who cared?

“I saw that kid, Mikado,” Izaya changed the subject and Shizuo nodded “how’s he been doing?”

Shizuo shrugged and huffed a little, scratching his scalp.

“I don’t talk to many people,” he said and that much Izaya had already noticed “but he’s… uh, I think that he’s still in touch with Saki…” he told him and he hummed, indicating that he was listening “he’s got this new act, he does it on Sundays, so, uh, tomorrow, today, whatever” he huffed and brushed his messy fringe out of his forehead “it’s a chair tower thing… goes up to 10 metres but, but he doesn’t want to wear a harness. Shinra is pissed about it.”

Izaya blinked and shook his head, not believing what he was hearing. He sipped on his tea, trying to wrap his head around the absolute madness he’d just heard.

“Hang on, so you’re telling me that the kid won’t wear a harness? To climb a 10-metre tower of chairs? Presumably building it along the way while doing a handstand, as he does for the cylinders and boards act.”

“Yeah, while on his hands, yes, like that,” Shizuo confirmed and the anxiety that thinking about it alone caused him was visible on his face “he’s been pretty reckless all along but he got worse after…” he didn’t finish that sentence. He didn’t have to.

“Fucking hell,” Izaya cussed and sipped on his tea “what the fuck kind of coping mechanism is that? God, kids are so stupid.”

“He’s 20 now, Izaya,” Shizuo reminded him.

“That’s 7 years younger than us, that’s a kid to me at this point in my life,” Izaya stated and meant it “especially when he behaves like that.”

“I guess,” Shizuo said and shrugged “nobody can make him change his mind about it, though. He’s done it a couple of times already, nothing has happened.”

“ _Yet_ ,” Izaya scoffed and shook his head, sipping on the rest of his now lukewarm tea. He got up to put the mug in the sink and sighed looking at the stereo again. He was sure he didn’t have one back then. That was an obsolete piece of technology that for some reason Shinra decided to give him. He hadn’t taken a look at the selection of CDs he’d gotten yet “can we change the subject?”

“Please,” Shizuo huffed and Izaya snorted, focusing on the pile of CDs. 

“Did everyone get one of these?”, Izaya pointed at the stereo.

“I think so.”

“And the same CDs?”

“Not sure about that.”

“What did you get?”

Shizuo mused quietly about him, trying to rack his brain for names, but not many came to mind. He remembered the genres, though.

“Hm, I can’t remember many names. I got Nujabes and lots of Jazz. Some Blues, too,” Shizuo told him, trying to remember if there was more stuff “I think that was it.”

Izaya snorted and took a closer look at what he'd gotten. Shinra had set up his dressing room for him even though he wasn’t there. At least he’d had the decency not to put his name on the door. It was clear that the CDs had been picked for him specifically. Like Shizuo’s selection, it seemed to have been based on Shinra’s idea of what he needed. Izaya had gotten some classic Rock ‘n’ Roll and R&B records, which he wouldn’t lie, he kind of liked. Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Elvis, Etta James were some of the names he noticed. Then he saw Queen, a personal favourite, and finally a Frank Sinatra Greatest Hits record. 

“Frank Sinatra, that bugger,” Izaya chuckled showing Shizuo the record.

“Oh, I got that too,” Shizuo recognised and Izaya smiled, shaking his head “You don’t like it?”

“No, I do. It’s just funny because it's obvious that he gave us stuff based on what he thought we needed. And Frank Sinatra was a crooner.”

Shizuo was confused by the unfamiliar word.

“A what?”

“It’s what you call singers who sing love songs in this soft, droning, sentimental voice,” he explained and got the CD out of its jewel box and popped it on the stereo, and turned the volume to low. The sound isolation was decent in their dressing rooms but not perfect, and it was past 3 am. 

“Why not?” Izaya said vaguely when the whim crossed his mind. He looked over at Shizuo and smiled “Can you dance?” Izaya invited when the first song started playing. _For Once In My Life._ Shizuo frowned a little and then got up “Oh, didn’t expect you to agree. You’re unpredictable, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” Shizuo said quietly, a little embarrassed. He could dance alright, but he hadn’t danced in many, many years. It was eerie, being there, in the middle of the night, with Izaya, pulling him close to slow dance to Frank Sinatra songs. 

Their height difference was perfect for Izaya to put his head on Shizuo’s shoulder as he held him gently with both arms around the middle, leaning onto him. Izaya wrapped his arms around Shizuo’s neck and heaved a sigh. Shizuo was warm and the song was cheesy, but it resonated with them in the liminal space that was that time of the night.

_For once unafraid I can go where life leads me and somehow, I know I'll be strong_

_For once I can touch what my heart used to dream of_

_Long before I knew_

_Someone warm like you_

* * *

They danced slowly to several songs. It was a wild serotonin boost for both and they were a little high in it when they reached the one both liked the most. They didn’t know it was the other’s favourite. 

_Fly Me to the Moon._

“I miss it,” Izaya said into Shizuo’s neck, sighing and smiling, tired but high “I miss flying.”

The confession tumbled quietly out of his lips and it echoed in Shizuo’s ears and his chest. His heart skipped a beat and he smiled a little, bitterly.

“Would you let me make you fly again?”

“In a heartbeat,” was Izaya’s instant reply which so shocked Shizuo he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it “nobody else gets to have my life in their hands.”

“Even though…”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

Shizuo fell silent and didn’t let go of him and then, out of the blue, as Sinatra said _‘please, be true’,_ he held Izaya by the waist and lifted him, swiftly, like he weighed nothing. 

Izaya was surprised by the reaction and spread his arms, looking down at him. His feet were dangling about a metre over the floor and Shizuo lifted him, as high as his arms reached, so high that Izaya’s head was close to the ceiling and he felt the air leave his lungs. The feeling was overwhelming, and he closed his eyes.

That was it. That was his element.

Shizuo lowered him slowly and when he did Izaya refused to be put on the ground and instead latched onto him, like a child, and finally opened his eyes. He kissed him to the sound of Sinatra, crooning about being young at heart.

“Not sure if I want to climb,” Izaya said when he broke the kiss and looked at his shiny brown eyes “but I’m sure I trust you. Always did, always will.”

What that meant, only time would tell. Shizuo liked to hear it. It meant the world to him to hear it from Izaya, the last of his flyers, the man who was able to shake him to the core like nobody else. The one who’d riled him up the most in the past and was now bringing out the best in him.

* * *


	5. it's gone, my dear, but it cannot be forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Objects have the meaning we fill them with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm actually committed to this so here's one more installment. It's quite long, this one. There's a lot here and it's a right mess but that's not new by now. I still hope it's enjoyable and makes some sense. Again, not much attention is being paid to certain things but I do hope this isn't riddled with typos. I spend quite a bit of time running this through a free typo checker and it forces me to go through it. 
> 
> This fic was originally 6 chapters but the 6th chapter was kind of an extra. This one will have 6 chapters but the 6th one will be the actual ending. I'm not sure if there'll be a 7th, you know, that extra. The extra was originally smut and as I said in the tags, I'm unsure if I want there to be actual smut here. We'll see. 
> 
> Thank you for reading this and I hope you dig this, even if just a bit.

* * *

People flocked to the circus on Sundays, likely to get some power to get through the week. The Sturlson Circus Sunday show was also the most spectacular of the week.

Izaya and Shizuo didn’t go back to sleep and instead sat down and talked. They just talked. Shizuo asked him about what he’d been doing those four years, and Izaya didn’t have any issues telling him about the small travelling circus troupe he’d joined. That’s where he’d learnt the silks act. They were good people. All of them lost and wandering through life, getting the kick to keep going from the claps and cheers. They were all misfits with talent, and it wasn’t unusual for them to take in people like Izaya, who were lost and running from something.

Then he’d opened up about what Vorona had said to him before leaving with her brother and allowed himself to cry about it. And it was Shizuo’s turn to hold him and tell him he was there, despite the tears in his eyes.

It stung so badly. He’d thought that Izaya at least could have the peace of mind to know he’d save her life, but hearing that was worse than he could fathom. Which was worse? Accidentally letting someone die or saving someone’s life only to hear them say you should have let them die? That wasn’t a valid comparison. They were traumatising for different reasons. Izaya told him he hadn’t heard from her since.

And they were there in Izaya’s dressing room, chatting until past six in the morning. They took care of their morning hygiene, and Izaya kept Shizuo company while he had his morning smoke. They had breakfast together and saw that Mikado was there eating by himself. 

Odd.

Izaya was the one to approach him because Shizuo really couldn’t bear to talk to that reckless kid. He reminded him too much of Kida.

“Hey there, Mikado,” Izaya greeted. The boy looked up to face him. He looked tired and wary.

“Hello, Izaya-san,” The boy greeted him back, over his bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee, “You’re up early. And got a haircut.”

“That’s normal for me, but not for you,” Izaya observed with a small smile, ignoring the bit about his hair “didn’t sleep well?”

“Something like that,” he said vaguely and glanced in Shizuo’s direction “can Shizuo-san come over?” He asked. Izaya blinked, looking at Shizuo, who was avoiding having to look at them. Izaya snapped his fingers a couple of times to attract his attention. Shizuo looked at him, and he gestured, beckoning him over. Shizuo hesitated but went there.

“Hello, Mikado,” Shizuo greeted, warily.

“Hello, Shizuo-san,” Mikado greeted back. He breathed in deeply, “I know why you avoid me,” he told him bluntly, cutting to the chase. Izaya saw Shizuo put his hands in his pockets and look away. “You should know that we did resent you, Saki and I, we resented both of you,” he clarified, looking at Izaya, “but time has passed, and it was an accident. You've suffered plenty because of what happened and” he breathed in heavily, nodding, “you deserve to move on. Four years is a long time.”

The two older men were silent for a moment, taking in those unexpected words of comfort. 

“Thanks for saying that,” Izaya said, and Shizuo couldn’t say anything but nodded “it’s important even though it changes nothing,” he sighed, and Mikado nodded. He’d always been one of the smart ones. That reminded Izaya of his dumbness. “I hear that you’re doing a dangerous act with no harness.”

Mikado was silent and gulped. Shizuo might not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, but he was too good at feeling negative emotions. Mikado felt anxious.

“Wear a harness,” Izaya told him.

“People like it that I don’t,” Mikado defended, “and I enjoy the danger.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mikado,” Izaya scolded, “listen to me, I don’t know what kind of coping mechanism you’ve been using, but this isn’t it. Don’t put your life in danger.” He rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers. “I know I’m the last person who should be talking about that, but take it from someone older than you and learnt from his mistakes.”

“I’ve never had any accidents,” Mikado complained. Shizuo agreed at last that that was a bratty attitude. The problem was that it wasn’t a harmless one. He liked the way Izaya had put it, too. They were older now, and they’d learnt from their mistakes.

“There’s always a first time, isn’t there?” Izaya said, heatedly, “We’re  _ living _ proof of that.”

Silence fell but Mikado wasn’t budging.

“I’ll be fine, Izaya-san.”

“God almighty, there’s no way to get through that thick skull. I give up.” Izaya huffed and shook his head, upset, getting up “Let’s get something to eat.” He said to Shizuo “I don’t have the mental stability to deal with this kind of stress first thing in the morning. I had such a lovely night, too.”

They were off to get some porridge that Izaya had plain, but Shizuo drowned in honey. 

“Don’t judge,” Shizuo mumbled with a frown. Izaya smiled a little.

“I wasn’t going to,” he said, but looked at him with a cheeky glint in his eyes “I may not like sweet stuff, but surprisingly, I like to taste it in your mouth.”

Shizuo’s cheeks turned a funny shade of pink, and he looked furtively at Mikado, who was much too far to hear them and seemed to be too distracted anyway. Izaya chuckled a little and dug into his plain porridge.

* * *

The practice that day went well too, but, as it turned out, Shizuo’s gut feeling had been right.

The show in the evening didn’t go well, to say the very least.

The chair tower act was the final one. It was the highlight of the show. Mikado was right; people enjoyed the absurd amount of danger involved. Shizuo and Izaya had already performed. Everyone was watching apprehensively from backstage. 

“He’s completely stupid,” Kasuka said under his breath. Mairu and Kururi seemed to be over their obsession with him but were still very much into latching to him. Both agreed, and neither was putting up a persona at that moment; it was genuine fear. 

The other hoopers were holding Anri. She couldn’t stop trembling. People grieved in different ways, that was true, but Mikado was just too ridiculous.

Shinra was the ringmaster, so he was there on the ring carefully narrating the act. There was a staffer there passing Mikado the chairs, too. However, neither could do a thing when it happened. One of the chairs in the middle slipped while Mikado was doing a handstand 10 metres off the ground, and it all crumbled like a Jenga tower. 

The screams echoed when people realised they were witnessing a deadly accident. The artists backstage looked on in horror, and some looked away.

But Shizuo moved on instinct alone.

While Izaya froze, powerless, staring as did some of the others, Shizuo dashed into the ring. The tower crumbled just slow enough to allow him to do what he had to do. Shinra served as a trampoline. Shizuo jumped up and put a foot on his shoulder to hop higher and catch Mikado, who managed to hold on to some chairs as the tower crumbled. Shizuo clutched him before he could get too low to be held safely.

Shizuo’s feet connected with the ring and smashed it in, sinking through the rubber slabs. Shizuo didn’t get injured either, his bones were ridiculously sturdy. All he was thinking about was if the kid was alright. Shaken and shocked, staring at his saviour and barely holding onto him, but he was. Ryugamine Mikado was alive and unscathed.

The audience cheered and clapped. 

It was dissonant and upsetting. Shizuo froze, overwhelmed by his mind.

The medical staff came in then to check them. Mikado was put on the floor where he could prove that he was indeed fine. They still wanted to check him and dragged him to the back. 

Izaya locked eyes with Shizuo. He was frozen in the middle of the ring, surrounded by a pile of overturned chairs. The medics tried to get him to move but couldn’t. He was stuck there, frozen in place with the upsetting cheers echoing in his ears.

Izaya stepped in, feeling his own hands get numb but knowing he had to get Shizuo out of there. He was the only one who could do it.

“Shizuo,” he called, putting his clammy hands on Shizuo’s cheeks and trying to reach his mind, “get out of here. Let’s get out of here. You did well. You saved the kid.” He reasoned, shakily “Come on. It’s me. Listen to me, focus on me. Don’t hear them.”

Shizuo started shaking then and looked at Izaya with pleading eyes, putting his hands over his, his mind going haywire. Izaya took the chance to grab his hand and managed to pull him along and out of the ring. Shinra was in charge of damage control, but really, he barely had to. It was so upsetting that people had clapped and cheered. Yes, they were clapping because of the rescue moment, but it was entertainment to them. They’d post about it on social media, they’d tell their friends about it, they’d hail it as iconic, epic, heroic, all the words that Shizuo didn’t want to have associated with him. That was a thing that could have gone horribly wrong. Maybe Mikado wouldn’t have died, but he would have definitely gotten seriously and likely permanently injured. 

Shizuo refused to show up for the final bow, and Izaya stayed behind with him. Mikado did go out there because Shinra insisted. He wanted to teach him a lesson about wearing a harness. That was the silver lining. He promised he would.

The medics suggested that everyone took a calming pill. Shizuo wanted to refuse, but Izaya talked him into it. He didn’t deserve to have a panic attack over that. No, he made sure to let him know, he was no hero, but he’d done the right thing. He’d done well.

The showers were quiet, and some of the lads didn’t have the physique to deal with calming pills. Everyone looked drowsy and silly by the end of it. When they were drying up, everyone levelled and calm, Mikado walked up to Shizuo.

“Shizuo-san,” he drawled a bit and blinked the drowsiness away “I’d had a dream last night…”

_ Flashbacks. _ Shizuo’s body was too sturdy, and while he was also a bit drowsy, that stuff they’d all taken didn't exactly get rid of PTSD symptoms and triggers.

“And in this dream, I knew I’d fall off the chairs if I climbed them,” Mikado kept going, unaware of the effect that was having on Shizuo “Masaomi was there,” Shizuo’s hands started shaking. Izaya wanted to tell Mikado to stop talking, “and he told me to climb them anyway” his voice trembled, but he smiled “because you’d be there.”

Izaya was shocked by the revelation. He couldn’t afford to be a sceptic, what with living with a supernatural woman and Shizuo, so that truly felt like some sort of supernatural event.

Shizuo had frozen again, and Izaya held his bare arm, for comfort.

“Make sure to wear a harness from now on though,” Izaya said instead of addressing the revelation. Mikado nodded.

“I will.”

“Good. Let’s go, Shizuo,” Shizuo moved, but he wasn’t in his right mind. Izaya dragged him back to his dressing room.

“You sit here, I’m going to get your clothes,” Izaya told him and left the dressing room after putting on his sleeping wear and a coat. He shoved a switchblade down his pocket. 

He was also on edge, but his emotions were more on the angry side, and he needed to take it out on something. He entered Shizuo’s dressing room. Instead of heading for his chest of drawers, he headed for that green armchair.

“What are you-“

“Oh, perfect,” Izaya said when he saw Shizuo at the door, wearing nothing but a towel “glad you came to. You should be the one to do it. Get dressed. We got something to do.”

“What-“

“Don’t question,” Izaya demanded. Shizuo was easily bossed around, so he did as he was told. “A coat, too. You’ve just showered, idiot.”

Shizuo put on a coat.

“Grab this armchair and take it outside,” Izaya demanded.

“Wh-“

“Did I stutter?”

“No,” Shizuo said quietly and did as he was told. Izaya followed him out the door as he carried the green armchair. Izaya opened the door to the outside. It was bitterly cold, the wind was howling, and it seemed like it’d rain soon. Shizuo put the armchair on the floor and looked back, waiting for more instruction. Izaya closed the door behind them and pulled the switchblade out of his pocket “you're tearing it apart,” he clicked the knife out, and it shone silver under the security lights. He turned it around so that the handle was facing Shizuo and the blade was in his hand “take it.”

Shizuo carefully grabbed it by the handle and hesitated.

“Why?” He asked, giving him that pleading, confused look, his long damp hair being swayed and dried by the wind.

“You know why,” Izaya snapped and pointed at the old, faded green armchair “this is a memento that you kept to hurt yourself. I won’t let you hurt yourself anymore.”

Shizuo was still, clutching the handle of the knife. He gulped painfully. Izaya didn’t know about Masaomi’s dream that he’d shared with him that day. He didn’t know that while he’d felt bad energy, dumbly said it was just nerves, and told the boy to climb.

“Izaya,” he started, and there was no stopping the tears falling warm down his freezing cheeks. He’d taken a calming pill so he could think, despite the whirlwind of painful emotions and thoughts “that day, Masaomi told me about a dream he’d had, a dream he didn’t want to elaborate on and I, I felt the energy, but he didn’t tell me what the dream was and I thought it was just nerves” he gritted his teeth, and Izaya let him speak, feeling his own eyes fill up with tears, already knowing where that was going. He’d heard Kida’s last words, and that explained a lot of the avoidable things that had happened that day “but then, then the fire… and he said it was like his dream, and he panicked, and I panicked and tried to catch him, but he passed out and, and…” he couldn’t finish it. He was crying and clutching the knife, covering his eyes with his arm.

“Shizuo,” Izaya called with a choked-out voice “be a believer, let’s both believe. We won’t be able to overcome this, but we have to live on. Masaomi talked to Mikado last night, and he’s not angry. Let’s believe that it wasn’t just a dream. We’re going to carry the weight for the rest of our lives, but we have to live in the present,” he smiled through the tears “so fucking tear that thing apart.”

Shizuo swallowed a sob and turned to the armchair, the green armchair he’d been holding onto, and stabbed the back. He kept stabbing and stabbing and stabbing. He dragged the blade down the old green fabric, and the stuffing spilled out, like white guts, overflowing. He shoved his hand inside it and yanked out a handful of it. He then dropped the knife. Izaya caught it, watching him, both of them crying. Shizuo pulled the arms of the chair apart. It fell into pieces. He started stomping on them before grabbing them and throwing them far off into the woods, one by one until there was nothing left of it but the bits of stuffing he’d pulled out, lying on the floor. Izaya folded the switchblade and then pocketed it before he walked over to Shizuo and hugged him tightly around the middle. Shizuo didn’t think before holding him back. 

“It’s gone,” Shizuo said shakily “it’s gone.”

He felt empty, gutted like someone had removed something from inside him that wasn’t necessarily good. Something was missing though, and he knew he had to let go of it, chuck it off into the woods.

They went back in silence to Izaya’s dressing room. Shizuo’s was fine now that the armchair was gone, but the lack of that object would be a reminder as well.

“Thank you,” was the first thing that came out of Shizuo’s mouth when they were in there, sitting together in reverent silence.

“Don’t thank me,” Izaya said and sighed deeply. Now it was sleep-deprivation, mental illness, emotional deregulation, and some fucking dope that had numbed down his mind. He laughed “how are you feeling?”

Shizuo’s response time, which was normally quite slow to things like that, had slowed down even more. It always happened after a burst of anger and he was tired, feeling numb, and his mind was a hazy mess, a melting pot of all his thoughts and feelings. The only effect that the calming pill had was to keep him from having a panic attack. He’d avoided that out there and instead had not only shared with Izaya one of his deepest secrets, but he’d also taken out his anger on an inanimate object. 

“Weird,” he finally said, “that shit they gave us, it’s good but… I can’t think about anything.”

“Hm,” Izaya hummed vaguely and looked up at the ceiling before his eyes slowly fell on the stereo. He closed his eyes and remembered Shizuo lifting him to the sound of Frank Sinatra’s voice “fly me to the moon,” he smiled, mumbling the lyrics “let me swing among those stars.”

Those weren’t the lyrics, and he knew it, but they made sense to him like that. Shizuo glanced at him with half-lidded eyes.

“What?” He mumbled.

“What if,” Izaya asked leaning onto his vanity and staring at Shizuo, barely seeing him “what if we gave it a go, up there, just the two of us? Can you make me fly again?”

Shizuo might have been doped and knackered, but he heard that, and while it took quite a bit to process what he was being asked, his chest fluttered a bit and he smiled, tired but honest.

“If you want me to, I’ll make you fly again, Izaya.” He agreed hoarsely. Izaya slowly got up from his vanity, swaying a little but feeling his heartbeat in his ears, pure emotions coursing through it.

“Let’s rest, Shizu-chan, let’s go to bed,” Izaya mumbled and Shizuo nodded vaguely before getting up. Simple orders. He was good at following orders. They lay there together, and it wasn’t long until they were asleep. The good thing about strong dopes was that they kicked your ass to sleep and generally didn’t let you have dreams, which tended to be exactly what you needed.

* * *

Sleeping in, to Shizuo and Izaya, meant sleeping until after 8 am. When Izaya woke up the following day, Shizuo was already awake but he was still there. It was a feeling he didn’t know at all, waking up next to someone, and it was even weirder that the person was Shizuo.

He’d been watching him sleep, sleepy as well, but he’d stayed there.

“Morning breath,” Izaya scrunched his nose, half-heartedly, covering his mouth. Shizuo chuckled and covered his own “it’s fine, just… not used to it,” he told him, hoarse and groggy “not used to seeing you here, like this.”

“Bad?”

Izaya smiled a little. Not many words were needed sometimes.

“No, good.”

Shizuo smiled a little, and the smile reached his puffy eyes. He raised his head a little to check the time. It was past 9 am. It had to be a personal record for them. 

“We slept.”

“What time is it?” Izaya asked. He covered his mouth to yawn.

“9:23,” Shizuo said and groaned a little. The bed was small “Let’s get up?”

“Craving a smoke?”

“Yeah,” Shizuo muttered. Izaya smiled and nodded a little, lazy. They got up without another word and left for the bathroom after putting on some coats. Izaya didn’t mind keeping Shizuo company while he smoked. Their animosity days were over, and the only reason Izaya wanted to be near him now was that he wanted to be with him.

They brushed their teeth and washed their faces after using the loo. The morning was colder than the previous day but still blue and bright. The wind had swept away the armchair stuffing that they’d left there. 

“That shit they gave us,” it was Shizuo who started talking. A surprise for sure, but a welcome one “it kicked our asses.”

“It did,” Izaya smiled, sniffling “you remember what we said though?” 

“I do,” Shizuo said quietly, blowing clouds of smoke that billowed up into the clear blue sky.

“So do I,” Izaya said softly, and even though his heart was racing in anticipation, he spoke calmly “I want to try climbing it again. I’ll only do it if you do it too, though. Not sure when.”

Shizuo was quiet, smoking his cigarette with a suddenly racing heart. He was scared, he wouldn’t lie. He was terrified. He couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to Izaya because of him. The last mistake he’d made had cost a kid his life and a girl her dream. It was hard to try to keep living, to do what he’d once loved doing more than anything, knowing they weren’t there. He knew he wouldn’t be able to cope with that, along with what he already had on his plate. 

“What if…”

“There’s a safety net,” Izaya said “there’s no what if. It’ll…” he paused and licked his lips “it’ll be hard, but if we don’t face this, we’ll never move forward.”

Shizuo looked at him and pulled more smoke into his lungs before releasing it and throwing the cigarette on the floor, crushing it with his flip-flop. He stared a bit and then looked up at the clear blue sky above them. He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know if that dream Mikado had meant anything, but it’d stirred something in him. Yet he was scared, so scared. However, if Izaya was willing to climb again and his condition was him climbing too, then he would, for him.

“I’ll do it,” Shizuo said quietly, hoarsely. He approached Izaya, who smiled. Shizuo place both his hands carefully on Izaya’s cheeks and tilted his face up. Izaya put his hands on his waist, and they kissed, soft and gentle, a morning kiss. One that warmed them up and calmed them down. It was a promise.

* * *

Growing older had brought about a lot of change in them as people, but they were still young. Childishness was still part of them, and both were dreading letting Shinra know they were willing to climb up to the trapeze.

“I’ll talk,” Izaya huffed over their morning bowl of porridge (it was an athlete’s meal, mind you). Shizuo sipped on his chocolate milk with a small frown. Izaya grabbed his cup of coffee a little too aggressively “but God, I can’t bear to think of his satisfied look. I swear, I’m not an example of empathy, but this guy…” he complained. Shizuo nodded and ate more of his porridge “don’t get too pissed, Shizu-chan, I know you can’t help it, but you’ve come a very long way. I know you’ll be pissed, I will too. Just try not to send his ass flying across the room” he continued and smiled a little. There was no teasing tone in his voice, just worry. Shizuo appreciated it. It was validating. He nodded “I trust you.” Izaya smiled.

There was no use delaying it, though. They had to go find that bugger. Izaya knew he’d be in his office, working, so they went there together. Izaya knocked because Celty’s horse was at the door, and he didn’t want to walk in on anything. 

“Come in,” they heard Shinra’s voice from the inside after knocking. He looked up from his desk and beamed upon seeing them. Celty was sitting on a corner, and her head was on. She didn’t speak, though. She used a text to voice app to communicate, and it was an Irish woman’s voice speaking Japanese with an accent. She smiled at them, and her smile was comforting. Shinra’s wasn’t.

“Oh,” their ringmaster said, “what a pleasure to see you!”

“Listen,” Izaya said, or rather, snapped, “save your smugness and bullshit to yourself. Yes, we’ve decided to give it a shot but we don't know when yet."

“They found the bits of the chair in the woods,” Shinra said instead of addressing the insults. He looked too pleased “you’ve finally decided to move on.”

Shizuo clenched his fists, and Izaya flared his nostrils.

“Shinra, please quit acting the maggot,” Celty’s text to voice said, and they all looked at her. She didn’t speak, but her face expressed all the emotions she was feeling. She was not pleased “you do not understand that this is something serious for them. Be considerate.”

“I’m considerate,” Shinra defended, and Izaya scoffed. Shinra looked at him “I am! I’m reasonable you’re not. You keep holding on to useless memories. That’s ridiculous.”

Shizuo clenched his jaw, and Izaya glanced at him. He could almost see Shizuo flipping the desk, and he didn’t want that to happen.

“Shinra, you are insensitive” Celty’s text to voice said in Japanese with the thick Irish accent “do not speak of things you cannot understand. You cannot feel their pain. You cannot understand what is eating them. They came here to speak to you, knowing you would be a right melter about it.”

Nobody knew what melter meant, but it was certainly an insult. Shinra sulked and frowned but shut up. Celty looked at the trapezists and her lips curled into a warm smile. She typed text on her phone, and it spoke,

“I am proud of you for taking this step. It is very brave of you to confront your feelings, and I wish you the best of luck.”

That was an appropriate reaction to two men with PTSD saying they wanted to face one of their biggest triggers. Celty, while not operating under human rules, was probably more humane than most people. Izaya smiled at her.

“Thank you, Celty.”

Shizuo nodded and smiled a little as well.

“I’m being ganged up on,” Shinra complained. All eyes were on him “you’re all acting like I don’t have any feelings. When this guy,” he pointed an accusatory finger at Shizuo, “refused to yield when I told him to get rid of that armchair. And you,” he pointed at Izaya, who gave him a warning look “left without saying a word. And I set up your dressing room because I wished that you’d be back.”

“You are not helping your case by being defensive,” Celty’s mechanical voice said. Her face frowned “what I said is that you do not understand that people who experience severe trauma and guilt cannot simply switch off the feelings that eat at their hearts.”

“But it doesn’t make sense! It’s been so long! Accidents happen, Celty! They should just move on!” Shinra exclaimed, upset. Izaya wanted to get Shizuo out of there because he could see him starting to shake. His jaw was shut tight. 

“If you keep being an asshole,” Izaya said, glaring at him “if you keep refusing to accept that this shit isn’t as easy as your brain thinks it is, we’re leaving the circus for good. And good fucking luck finding trapezists willing to climb a trapeze with blood on it.” 

Silence fell heavy and thick in that cramped little brown office.

“It’s a new one!” Shinra defended, breaking the silence and getting riled up as well “I don’t want you to leave but how can you say that? That’s a new one!”

“Shinra,” Celty’s mechanical voice said “do not argue with this, please. Make an effort to respect them.”

“I respect them! I respect them a lot. They’re the best trapezists!” Shinra exclaimed. Izaya huffed. Shizuo had closed his eyes and shoved his clenched fists down his pockets.

“Respect them as humans,” Celty’s voice echoed in its tinny, Irish accent “as people. Yes, they are good trapezists, but before being trapezists, they are human.”

Shinra stared at her and then looked at his trapezists. There was silence for a very heavy moment, and when he spoke, he was calmer.

“I owe you an apology,” he said, and it felt real “I’m sorry. I just… I think I didn’t realise how much you’d changed. To me, you were still the same… I,” he snorted “I wanted to have things be the same so badly, that I forgot they couldn’t be.”

That was another way to grieve. Forcing yourself to move on by being in absolute denial. Maybe, they realised, Shinra was just a special kind of messed up. 

“Well, apology accepted,” Izaya huffed and squeezed Shizuo’s arm. It was rock hard from how tense he was. He looked up at him.  _ Fuck. _ He looked back at Shinra “it’s not set in stone, alright? It’s just a thing we wanted to try, in light of what happened yesterday.”

“Alright,” Shinra sighed deeply “I won’t bother you again.”

“Thank you.” Izaya said, “Let’s go, Shizuo.” 

Shizuo jolted a little and nodded. They left soon after getting one more friendly smile from the Dullahan who could kick sense into Shinra’s thick skull.

“Are you alright?” Izaya asked Shizuo who wasn't, and it showed in his eyes “Right, let’s go outside, walk a little, you can smoke or something. Come on, now.” He urged gently and Shizuo nodded vaguely. The anger was too much to handle, but Izaya being there, Izaya of all people, suggesting ways for him to relax was everything he could need.

* * *

The weather outside was cold and windy, a bit humid, threatening to rain. Shizuo got to smoke without the wind smoking too much or without getting rain on his cig. They walked in silence through the funfair. Not many stands were open, both because of the looming rain and because Shizuo had destroyed a few of them the previous week. Simon’s sushi stand was though and Izaya mentally cussed. He didn’t want to see him. It was enough to have one of them be angry. But it was too late to go back. Simon had already seen them, walking together,

“Oh! Shizuo! Izaya!” He greeted in his rambunctious way and proceeded to speak in his broken Japanese “What is you doing here? Good, see you together, eh? Very good! No destruction!”

“There’s been enough of that for a lifetime. Last week was just an accident,” Izaya said, trying to keep the mood light. Shizuo was not talking because the adrenaline in his body was still threatening to blow up.

“I see, I see! Mind things! I get it.” Simon said and patted Shizuo’s tense shoulder. Shizuo looked up at the massive Russian man “Will you climb again?”

God, there it was.

“We don’t know yet,” Izaya said. Seriously, they’d wanted to give it a go, but people kept pushing it and being dicks about it. Was it something they wanted? Yes. Was it something they missed? Absolutely. But was it an easy task? Absolutely not.

“I understand,” Simon nodded and patted Izaya’s shoulder too “I understand. You do what you have to do.” He said simply and Izaya blinked seeing his smile “Sushi? I have liver.”

“You…”

“Don’t get it,” Erika and Walker showed up from behind them. Simon gave them a dirty look.

“You come here insult my food again? Slap my face but don’t talk about my food!” Simon complained, “It’s gourmet liver sushi!”

“I think we’ll pass for today,” Izaya said politely and turned to Shizuo. He looked slightly less stressed, “talk later, Simon.”

“One day I catch you, clowns!” Simon threatened. Everyone knew it was an empty threat. Erika can Walker laughed and joined Shizuo and Izaya as they walked away.

“So,” Erika grinned impishly, seeing the two men walk together “you two have settled your differences, uh?”

“Seems like it,” Izaya responded offhandedly “we’ve changed and can be civil with each other now.”

“And that’s it?” She asked in a little lilted tone. Walker smiled.

“Don’t bother them, Erika,” Walker asked his girlfriend, softly “they’re probably still recovering from yesterday.”

“Oh,” Erika dropped the little act and nodded “right, sorry. You’re right, Yumacchi, that was terrifying. I’m glad they drugged us all afterward. And thank God Shizu-chan has such good reflexes.”

“And stepped on Shinra-san,” Walker added with a grin “that was the best part. Even if he wasn’t hurt.”

Erika cackled, and Izaya felt a smile on his face. It seemed like Shinra’s antics had gotten his crew to resent him quite a bit, no matter how well he paid them or how well he took care of them. 

* * *

Shinra decided to cancel the Monday evening show, and that was a sound decision. Instead, he would gather his team for an evening meeting. Everyone practiced as usual, but he’d told them that they could skip if they wanted. They didn’t really. Not even Mikado skipped, and practice was as usual, despite the slightly more relaxed mood. 

“Iza-nii,” Mairu called with a grin when he languidly spun down the silks “that act makes you look like a hoe.”

Izaya chortled heartily when his feet hit the ground.

“That’s kind of the point,” Izaya said. His eyes fell on Shizuo, who was lying on his back on the floor while Kururi performed a single hand handstand on his knee. He motioned his knee, and she hopped up, did a flip, and landed back on her hand on the same knee. Shizuo looked at him and smiled a bit. Bored. He was bored. Izaya was bored as well. God, he was so bored.

Kururi hopped off onto her feet, and Shizuo sat down on the floor, sighing.

“We’ll have to change our repertoire when you go back to the trapeze,” Kururi said blankly. Mairu hummed and then shrugged.

“That’s fine, isn’t it? We were doing it on our own before anyway,” she said “and these two need to face their demons. Probably fuck the pain away, as one does.”

Shizuo widened his eyes and looked at Izaya for support. Izaya didn’t know if they knew, but if they did, it had been because they’d guessed it.

“Filthy as usual,” Izaya snorted and patted his sister’s head “and so big.” He sighed and shook his head. Both of his sisters broke out of their persona a bit to smile at him and give him a proper group hug. He didn’t expect it but quite enjoyed it. It was warm, and it seemed like they’d truly grown out of their animosity towards him. Shizuo smiled at it, and Izaya locked eyes with him, smiling back.

“Don’t go away again, Iza-nii,” Mairu said quietly when they got away from one another “please.”

“Our parents are shit,” Kururi muttered. She was right. They’d disowned them the moment they decided that they wanted to become artists as kids “but we’re here… together. And this is our family, but you’re our actual brother. We hated the way you treated Shizuo-san, but you look like you’ve changed. We have, too.”

Izaya looked at the girls, and his chest felt warm and fuzzy. He wasn’t used to feeling loved, and the love he was feeling from his sisters struck him as real.

“My little grinch heart is growing thrice its size because of that,” Izaya said with a smile, and Mairu chortled heartily. Kururi chuckled “it’s good to hear that. We’ve all changed, haven’t we?”

Shizuo stood up and joined them in silence, sighing. Izaya looked over at him.

“Craving a smoke?”

Shizuo nodded with a small smile. Izaya gestured to the outside.

“Let’s go, then.”

* * *

It didn’t seem like anybody had caught on to Izaya and Shizuo’s new relationship. They were yet to put a label on it, but they seemed to be somewhere between friends and lovers. It didn’t really matter. Time would tell.

They hung out at Izaya’s dressing room before Shinra’s random meeting, which would happen after dinner. They chatted a bit about random things. Shizuo’s life over the last four years had been quite uneventful, but Izaya had casually asked if he’d had any dates. Shizuo shrugged and said that he had, a couple of times with some circus goers. Izaya chuckled.

“They were thirsty for your muscles,” he joked and Shizuo shrugged.

“Maybe,” he said vaguely.

“Men or women?”

“Both,” Shizuo said quietly. Izaya hummed. He was bisexual himself, and he had a preference for men. He wondered about Shizuo.

“Do you have a preference?” he asked, hoping that his question was clear.

“Not really,” Shizuo confessed and huffed, leaning back on the armchair “it was all the same kind of meaningless.”

“Oh,” Izaya mused, looking at him, trying to assess what exactly he meant. To be fair, all his flings back in Russia had been meaningless, but the truth was that he got hard quicker with men “so anything can get you hot and bothered?”

Shizuo looked at him, mildly confused.

“What do you mean?”

Izaya hummed, trying to find a clearer way to put it.

“If there’s, for example, a body type that makes you get hard quicker,” he tried. They were fully discussing sexual preferences with each other, and it was a legitimate subject. 

“Oh,” Shizuo’s cheeks flushed a bit. Izaya found it funny. Why was he only getting embarrassed now? “um… no. When I, when I want to have sex and, uh, someone wants to fuck me… I just do it. I don’t have a preference for shape or whatever.”

“Aw,” Izaya smiled “and here I was thinking I’d be your type with all these curves” he joked. Shizuo looked at him in silence. There was something on his mind, and it was serious and important. He was kind of awkward and bad with words, though.

“It’s different,” Shizuo said, at last, looking away. His face was red and covered the side Izaya could see with his hand “that’s different.”

“How? Come on, use words.” Izaya urged with a smile. Shizuo sighed, and his heart raced. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt a bit, sighing.

“Because it’s not about shape,” he said with a small, embarrassed frown “I find you, I find you more attractive than other people, but it’s… it’s got little to do with your body. Though” he added a little wary “you’re, uh, very beautiful… ah.” He groaned “This is so embarrassing.” He complained. Izaya’s heart had started beating a little faster, and he loved to hear that. He didn’t want to use words that meant too much, but he felt that their feelings matched.

“Talking about it is good, Shizuo,” Izaya said with a smile “if it helps, I think you’re hot… but I’m also attracted to you for those other reasons.”

Shizuo didn’t know what his reasons were, but by the sound of it, Izaya did. He decided to drop the subject for the time being. It was dinner time, and after that, they’d have to attend Shinra’s meeting.

* * *

The mood in the meeting room was a bit heavy, but everyone sat and waited for Shinra to finish gathering his thoughts and start speaking. He’d brought out a bullet list with the things he wanted to talk about, which was a first. Celty was there with her head on and her phone ready to turn the text into speech in case it was needed.

“Alright,” Shinra sighed and stood in front of his crew, who was all waiting for him to speak. Shizuo and Izaya had sat together at the very back “I’m sure you’re all wondering why I called you in here today,” he started with a small smile “on such short notice.”

There were a couple of nods.

“Right, yeah,” he continued and grabbed his list, sighing deeply “well, there are several things I need to address. Of course, the Christmas show will be one of them, but that’s for last. There are more pressing issues at hand.”

There was silence. Everyone waited.

“Okay, okay, this is weird to me, I never had trouble speaking, but here we are,” he snorted and stared at the list, gripping it tightly “the first point I want to address is the way I’ve dealt with the accident that happened four years ago.”

The mood shifted slightly, and everyone was a bit wary. Izaya surreptitiously reached his hand out to put it in Shizuo’s pocket. He held his clenched fist. Shizuo sighed and slowly opened his hand. They intertwined their fingers instead.

“I wanted so badly to get things back to normal, to move on, that I accidentally fell into a state of denial,” Shinra continued and sighed “and that was a bad approach to it “I shouldn’t have had the circus rebuilt in the same style as before,” he shook his head “all I changed were some colours of armchairs and gave you some stereos.”

There was silence, still.

“Since we have people coming in soon to fix the damaged stuff at the funfair, some modifications will also be made to the building,” he said “and we’ll, we’ll remember our friends Masaomi Kida and Vorona in a proper way, a proper homage. No longer pretending nothing happened.” He smiled a little, bitterly.

Some eyes were getting teary hearing that and some smiles bloomed.

“Right, that’s the first point,” he sighed, clicking his tongue “the second point is the way I’ve dealt with the trauma caused by that accident. I’m not very empathetic, but I can be compassionate” he smiled a little and glanced at Shizuo and Izaya “I forgot that in my wish to get things back to normal. And for that, I apologise to all of you, but especially to Shizuo and Izaya,” he said and the two men nodded at him “especially Shizuo, who stuck around, and whom I saw spiral down and did nothing except shame him for not moving on. Celty helped me see the wrong in my ways. You can’t simply switch off certain things, and I was insensitive.”

Celty smiled, and he smiled a little, too. There were a couple more smile, teary smiles, but smiles, nonetheless. Some of their co-workers glanced at Shizuo and Izaya. 

“Well, with that said, while I wish that they’d climb the trapeze again, that is entirely their decision, and I will not interfere. We can still do our spectacular Christmas show without it,” Shinra said with a little less mardy mood “because you’re all spectacular and the best crew anyone could wish for.”

The smiles turned into proper ones, and Shinra smiled back.

“Mikado-Kun will have to wear a harness from now on though,” he stated, and Mikado nodded vehemently under his friends’ disapproving looks “because if Shizuo hadn’t been there, I don’t even want to think about what would have happened.”

“I promise, Shinra-san,” Mikado said, “I won’t do that again without a harness.”

“That’s very good, Mikado,” it was Celty’s Irish sounding voice who said it. Everyone looked at her “you’re valuable and need to live. That is the only way we can keep Masaomi alive. We need to live. As long as we live and remember him, he will never be truly gone.”

That was the truth. Everyone knew it and was thankful for her wisdom. 

Shizuo and Izaya didn’t know when they’d be ready to climb that trapeze again but maybe soon. Izaya wanted to fly again, and Shizuo wanted to make him fly again. All they needed was a little more time to convince themselves that they were allowed to do that.

* * *


	6. and so we faced it again, we remembered, and kept going up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Christmas Show is coming around and they make up their minds, setting a goal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again. I said this would be up yesterday, but as it turned out that didn't happen. It's here though and by God is it a mess, but it's here. Personally, I think the silly, horny goal is hilarious and tones down the heaviness of facing the trauma and learning to live with PTSD. It's not that we're nothing but our trauma. The trauma is just a part of us we can't really erase. For clarification, I never let anyone die (and thank God, knocking on wood) but have to live with C/PTSD. I always project when I'm writing something and tend to write about things I know.  
> Well, I'm removing the 'probably no smut' tag because there will be smut. I won't tag it as explicit because it won't be. Mature is really the right tag, I think. Excuse any mistakes and typos, also.
> 
> Well, that's all, thanks for reading this and I hope you enjoy the read.

* * *

The days were getting colder as November neared December. They were getting colder and shorter, too. Night fell earlier, but it didn’t matter. Life went on. 

They kept practicing their regular acts, and nobody mentioned the trapeze again. Shinra made good on his promise. When the new stands came, so did the construction workers to modify the building. The colour-scheme changed. The old purple changed to stripes of gold. The lights, which were no longer a fire hazard, were silver. They put up a large, beautiful painting of Kida on the front wall of the building. The photo they used was one where he’d been smiling and winking, one they’d used for promotional posters. Under the painting they wrote a small biography along with the line:

_ “Remember what was and fight for what can be.” _

It was good. It was a reminder, a proper one - one that was bittersweet instead of just painful. Shinra addressed it and the changes before the first show they did after the works. Everyone was thankful for the changes. That was the closure everyone needed – a closure that wasn’t closure. They wanted to remember. They wanted to move on but keep the memory alive, as one should do.

Yet, Shizuo and Izaya hadn’t climbed up there.

They kept hanging out at Izaya’s dressing room, despite Shizuo having gotten a new armchair, a brown one. Brand-new. They’d gotten used to Izaya’s dressing room, and that’s where they hung out. Their sleeping schedules were a hot mess, still. They got a couple of hours of good sleep whenever they slept together. That wasn’t a healthy amount of sleep, but it was better than nothing. 

“When we climb up there and fly again,” Izaya said one night soon after the changes. They’d been lying tired on his bed, kissing half-asleep “I'm so getting that,” he kissed Shizuo lips again, a fluttering touch, feeling his hand on the small of his back, under his shirt, pressing their bodies together “you give me fever.”

“Hm?” Shizuo hummed, confused, not sure what that meant. All he wanted was to hold Izaya close. It’d become the best part of his days. Getting through the day was easier now that Shinra was no longer shoving the past in the closet, and he had Izaya to hold at the end of the day. Shizuo was still bad with words, but he hoped that he made Izaya feel appreciated as well. 

“Nothing,” Izaya mumbled and slid his leg between Shizuo’s. He rubbed his thigh against his half-boner. It always drew a moany breath out of Shizuo’s throat. Izaya was a masochist because his own would brush against Shizuo’s stomach “maybe we should sleep” he breathed onto Shizuo’s neck and kissed it, just over his jugular. Shizuo sighed.

Izaya knew that Shizuo while being fine with taking the initiative to touch him and hold him, wouldn’t ask for sex. He was too pure for that, and it drove Izaya mad to think about it. That strong man was so soft and gentle. Maybe that was what had made him fall for him, all those years ago when he was too immature and closeted to be reasonable about it. 

He’d wait though. The goal was something he needed. He felt that if they flew again, he could be honest about his feelings. He wasn’t scared that Shizuo didn’t feel the same. Even if he didn’t, he knew that he wanted him, which was enough for him. All he wanted was to do it at the right time.

* * *

“I want to try climbing,” Shizuo said the following evening after they’d had dinner and a shower after practice. They didn’t have to perform that day.

“Me too, we’d already decided that,” Izaya said with a smile. Shizuo looked at him and licked his lips, shaking his head.

“I meant now, I want to try it now,” Shizuo clarified. Izaya stared at him, and his heart raced.

“Now?” Izaya asked, his eyes darting to the digital clock. It was past 8 pm. Nobody would be out there in the ring. Maybe that was what Shizuo wanted. Shizuo's whimsical behaviour was a mystery to him. That man was unpredictable, and Izaya loved that.

“Yeah, now,” Shizuo said and nodded, sniffling and tying back his damp hair “I want to try it now.”

Izaya didn’t know what had urged him to want it then, at that specific time, but he’d said before and repeated it.

“If you want it, then I’m in,” he told him with a smile. Shizuo nodded and gestured with his head towards the door.

It was freezing outside, but neither bothered to put on warmer clothes. There was no need, not when they were about to work out and be stressed. Izaya did the honours of slamming the light switch on and lighting up the venue. His hands got numb just from standing under the trapeze. Shizuo’s cheeks glowed pale under the electric white lights and Izaya saw his Adam’s apple move when he gulped hard. 

“The safety net’s right there,” Izaya pointed out, but his voice was shaky too. Shizuo looked down at him, and his anxiety was mirrored in his eyes “kiss me.” He asked with urgency.

Shizuo held his cheeks in both his hands and pressed a closed-mouth kiss against his lips. Izaya held the front of his shirt and held the kiss, feeling it warm him up and take his breath away, keeping the panic at bay. They broke apart breathing hard but calmer. Shizuo looked him in the eyes.

“If you fall, I fall,” he stated. Izaya opened his mouth and then closed it. Right, whatever he needed to cope. They had a sturdy safety net there. There was no fire. Not then. He knew that in Shizuo’s mind there was, just like there was in his.

Shizuo’s brain was going haywire, and not only were the flashes of the flames clouding his vision, but his senses were overwhelmed with the phantom smell of scorched wood, the sound of the screams of panic, the agony in the cries for help. All that was shouting in his mind, and his mouth parched up. His eyes were dry. 

“Go ahead of me,” Shizuo asked and Izaya stared at him, seeing the tensed-up flesh under his shirt “if you slip, I'll catch you.” He breathed, clenching his jaw. Izaya closed his mouth and gulped hard. There was no helping the flashbacks that were haunting him too. He nodded and did as he was told. He gripped the ladder that led up to the board of the trapeze, above the safety net, and started climbing. Shizuo went right behind him. It felt like the longest climb of their lives, even though it lasted all of 2 minutes. They were on the board. It was shorter than it had been, yes, but the feeling was similar. Both needed a moment to breathe, and Izaya reached his hand. Shizuo held it, intertwining his fingers with his, to avoid hurting him.

“It’s easier in theory, isn’t it?” Izaya said, his voice coming out small and anxious when he grabbed the chalk bag from his pocket and tied it to the rig with trembling fingers. He knotted it several times. Mistakes would not be repeated.

Shizuo’s eyes were fixed on the bars above them. Izaya wanted to find words to tell him, but then he saw him shove his hands in the chalk bag. He coated his hands in it and breathed, filling his chest with the cold air of the night. Izaya saw, not without surprise, Shizuo building momentum and jumping high. He gripped the bar closest to the rig. Izaya gasped for air and widened his eyes. Shizuo gulped; his eyes were wide open and fixed on the rig opposite to them. His body still remembered how to do it. Then he was hanging upside down, with his knees hooked on the bar. He looked at Izaya who was still stood on the board, staring. He saw Shizuo’s shirt rid up a bit and expose the taut muscles of his stomach. That brought back memories, too. The better ones. That only happened whenever they were practicing.

Izaya smiled a little despite the moisture in his eyes and reached back into the bag of grip chalk. Shizuo’s heart was in his mouth, metaphorically, and his face was getting red as his vision got cloudy from the tears of seeing Izaya running towards the edge of the board. There it was. That complete trust. The absolute confidence he had that he’d catch him. Izaya's heart soared too when he flew towards Shizuo’s extended arms and felt his hands firmly grip his wrists. Izaya gripped Shizuo’s and looked up at him, seeing his smile and his glossy, wet eyes that mirrored his own. 

“Pull me up,” Izaya asked loudly and heard the familiar echo of his voice up there, where there was nothing but them and the rigs. Shizuo did. The movement was swift. The terrifying strength was comforting and chilled Izaya to the bone before warming him up to the core. Shizuo sat on the bar and pulled Izaya’s back towards his chest, holding him close. Izaya held on to the steel cables that held the bar up and breathed heavily. Shizuo breathed onto his neck, and he could feel his heart hammer against his back, in sync with his. He could also feel the water in Shizuo's eyes when his eyelashes touched his skin.

“Fuck,” Izaya cussed with a shaky laugh, “my eyes are hazy, these bloody tears won’t stop coming,” he complained and tried to wipe them on his shoulder, not wanting to rub magnesium carbonate on his eyes. He was overwhelmed but not stupid “don’t rub your eyes, Shizu-chan,” he said when he felt one of Shizuo’s arms loosen around him “it’ll fucking hurt and you know this. Think.”

“Think,” Shizuo repeated onto his neck and nodded. His voice hurt “ _ think _ .”

“Yes,” Izaya breathed and glanced down at the safety net. The freefall was a mere 10 metres onto something that would break their fall “now, throw me.”

“Where?” Shizuo asked. He focused on the feeling of Izaya in his arms and the thought that they were up there.

Izaya breathed in and smiled up at the strong white lights with his eyes closed.

“Wherever you want. Just make me fly again."

Hearing that request filled Shizuo with an old emotion. It was his favourite one. The joy of making Izaya fly. The joy of knowing he trusted him.

He let Izaya slide down, and he flipped around, swapping the hand position. Then Shizuo threw him, as he used to do, high. High, between the flashing lights and Izaya felt free and whole for the first time in so long as he did a double backflip, gracefully. 

Shizuo watched, mesmerised; his muscle memory was still there, and he knew what he was doing. 

_ Beautiful.  _

That was the only concept in Shizuo’s mind.

_ Izaya was beautiful. _

His hands gripped the other bar, but the grip was loose, and he let himself fall. 

The freefall was comforting, too. He saw Shizuo fall right after. That idiot was making good on his promise. His body connected with the net and slinked up and down. He saw Shizuo’s do the same.

“Idiot!” Izaya called with a grin and saw Shizuo, overwhelmed and breathy, rolling up to where he was.

“What did you call me?” Shizuo asked, a smile blooming on his shiny, red face. 

“Idiot,” Izaya said quieter when he was beside him and held him again, “I said you’re an idiot.”

“Why?”

“You didn’t have to fall.”

“I said I would.”

“I let myself fall.”

“I know,” Shizuo said and looked at him, breathing heavily, “but I said I would, and I will. As many times as I have to.”

Izaya wanted to cry out, but it was night-time. He was not very sane, but he was aware of basic social conventions. He groaned instead and heard Shizuo chuckle beside him. That bugger was crying like a baby and Izaya eyes welled up too. They lay there together laughing with tears in their eyes, 15-metres off the ground. Then they crawled over to the rig to climb back up. 

And they kept falling and getting used to the feeling of falling again. And they kept climbing and getting used to that one as well. They were there into the night. By the time they left, they were no longer falling out of nerves, but out of sheer exhaustion. 

“Should we take another shower?” Izaya wondered, throwing the question in the air when they left the ring after slamming the light switch off. Shizuo sighed and felt his clothes. They were soaked in sweat, that was true but taking a second shower sounded ridiculous.

“I don’t want to,” Shizuo said, scrunching his nose “let’s get some towels.”

Izaya smiled and agreed. That was what he wanted to do as well. They were just sweaty, not smelly.

They passed by the bathroom and grabbed some towels. Shizuo popped by his dressing room, and Izaya went ahead to his own. Shizuo joined him a while later, already dressed for sleep. Izaya was dressed for sleep as well. They were too exhausted for chats or anything else, so all they did was fall together in Izaya’s queen-size bed and sleep.

* * *

By then December had come around, and the Christmas show was starting to be prepared. The other shows were cancelled, save for the Sunday one. They needed to practice different acts and prepare them, too. There wasn’t enough time to keep up with their regular schedule. Shinra gathered all the artists in an initial meeting and then scheduled a meeting with them in private to discuss the acts in more detail. They took inspiration from several different acts and gave them their spin based on their strengths. That was a thing that was done so that everyone could enjoy the show. Nobody knew what the others would do, and they’d see it from backstage for the first time on the day of the show. 

The building had already been decorated for Christmas by a team of professionals, no less, making sure that everything was safe and not a fire hazard. Christmas had become a bleak time for them those past four years. It used to be Kida’s favourite holiday though, and it felt like it was a good way to honour him, so everyone tried hard to get festive. It was funny to watch. A bit cringe, but it was funny to watch. Erika and Walker were the rowdiest of the lot and they took the mission to spread the Christmas cheer. They pranced merrily through the halls, which were decked with boughs of holly among other tacky decorations, as they sang hollered ‘FALALALA’, annoying the living shit out of some of their friends. They wanted to be the Christmas elves but what came out was something more akin to Christmas goblins. 

Everyone adopted the tacky Christmas jumper tradition and nobody could get Masaomi Kida out of their minds. It was like he was there himself and the truth was that it felt like he was. It felt like he was and was happy that they were doing that. For a Japanese orphan boy, he’d sure had loved his Christmas traditions. That made everyone a little happier, somehow, knowing that Masaomi would have loved that they were doing that for him. Everyone was given led, battery-powered fairy lights that they put in their dressing rooms. Also, tiny Christmas trees that already came decorated and felt like the children of the five massive Christmas trees that had been put in the building. Two were put in the main hall near the ticket booths in the lobby. One was put in the cafeteria which looked incredibly tacky, one was put in the ring, near the VIP area. The venue was also the epitome of tacky, over-the-top Christmas decorations. And the last tree was placed near Kida’s memorial, outside.

Izaya was sure that Shinra was aware that he and Shizuo had been climbing the trapeze at night and practicing then. The safety net was always checked on the days they went out there. If the others had caught on too, nobody said a thing. Izaya suggested that to Shizuo and got a shrug in response. Izaya liked that about Shizuo. Stripped out of his anger issues, Shizuo didn’t care about most things that didn't have consequences.

They let Shinra know that they wanted to meet with him, and it was arranged for that freezing Thursday afternoon.

Celty was in his office, as usual, sitting on the couch that was there for her. They took the plush bench he had in front of his desk instead of chairs. 

Shinra smiled and waited for them to speak first. He’d changed his behaviour and there was no way to deny it - that was the best way to make good on an apology.

“We want to do a trapeze act,” Izaya said, at last, being the spokesman as usual, “just the two of us, of course.”

Shinra sighed and nodded.

“I’m happy for you,” he said back, smiling “I’ll make sure that everything is extra safe. Do you have a plan for what you want to do?”

Izaya nodded and pulled out his phone to show him the acts they were drawing ideas from. All those acts were man and woman acts focused on the sensuality aspect of it. Even if they hadn’t been nearing a relationship like that, there was no other way to do it. Their size and strength differences wouldn’t allow it. Male duos focused on their combined strengths, while male and female duos focused on the sexual tension. They had that going strong for them, especially because they hadn’t been doing anything sexual with each other. The build-up was low-key maddening.

“Okay,” Shinra said. Celty had joined them to watch it too “but will you do any flying?”

“Of course, we will,” it was Shizuo who spoke, frowning a little “or he will,” he corrected “what would be the point if he didn’t? That’s what we like the most. Nobody else can do it the way we do.”

Izaya smiled at him and, fuck, he was soft for this man.

Shinra looked at him and grinned, happy to hear him step in and talk.

“You’re right,” he said and nodded, “so let’s settle the specifics and the climax points. You can start practicing it tomorrow,” he looked at them, a bit wary “are you okay with doing it during the day or do you prefer to do it at night?”

The trapezists looked at each other before responding.

“I think we’d rather do it at night,” Izaya spoke. Shizuo nodded. Celty smiled, and so did Shinra, who nodded “I’m sure everyone knows that we’ve been doing it. Guess it’ll be a surprise for everyone.”

“I’ll have to watch it though, at least once,” Shinra said and Izaya agreed with a nod “Yeah, I need to know what’s happening.”

“You’re the ringmaster,” Shizuo spoke, “of course you need to know what’s happening.”

Celty laughed without sound. Shinra chuckled too and then sighed, looking at them. God, there it came.  _ Questions. _

“Ask away,” Izaya said, pursing his lips and looking at his old friend.

“It’s just that it’s a bit obvious that something’s changed between you,” he said with a small, apologetic smile. Izaya sighed and shrugged “back then it was just the tension. Now there’s that and… you’re always together. Shizuo’s talking more. It’s a good change and” he paused a bit, “I’m happy for you. That’s all I want to say.”

“Take your time,” Celty Irish-sounding text to voice said. They looked at her, seeing her smile “it is difficult to understand yourself and it is even more difficult to understand your feelings.”

“Right,” Izaya snorted and nodded. Shizuo’s face was getting red. That straight up was making him feel like they were having a counselling session “that’s good. Thanks.”

“Thanks,” Shizuo mumbled as they got up and left without saying anything else. 

They resumed their practice sessions at night. It was just them, at night, without any eyes on them. No distractions, no noise, nothing. That was healing. They kissed when they weren’t supposed to and then smiled about it. 

“We’ll end up kissing when we have to do it,” Izaya said one night, a week before the Christmas show. They were soaked in sweat. It was cold in there, but their cheeks were bright red. They were sat on the board, 20 metres off the ground, drinking some water. The act was ready to be performed.

“And what if we do?” Shizuo asked, unbothered, cleaning up some of the sweat on his forehead with a towel. Izaya looked at him in silence. He’d changed so much over that month they’d been together. Izaya felt like he’d changed, too, but not that much. Izaya was less snarky now and had learnt to control it thanks to Shizuo. More often than not, Shizuo didn’t understand sarcasm and having to explain that he meant the opposite of what he’d said was kind of silly. Izaya didn’t miss being sassy all the time. He still liked to joke around, but he found that being direct didn't make people feel antagonised. Izaya liked to socialise and he found that he was getting better at it the more time he spent with Shizuo. In return, Shizuo socialised more with people, something he hadn’t done in four years, because of him. 

Then there was that. Shizuo never beat around the bush. What came out of his mouth was what was on his mind, word for word, no filters.

“I mean,” Izaya said with a smile “I don’t mind it, it’s not like most people haven’t caught on yet. Erika hasn’t said anything but I’m sure it’s out of respect,” he paused and sighed “I don’t mind it. I think the only issue would be the audience’s reaction, you know?”

“Ah,” Shizuo hummed quietly. He looked on at the empty seats where the audience would be. That was true, wasn’t it? They were two men. Their friends were fine with it, of course, but in general same-sex relationships weren’t well-received by society. However, as bad as it sounded, he’d fight anyone who tried to call them names. He had to live with a load of guilt almost too heavy to carry, he would not allow people to shame him and make him feel guilty about that. Not when he felt happy. Not when he saw that he made Izaya happy. That was a good thing they had, and he'd fight for it. They were yet to put a label on it and, not unlike betrothed puritan lovers waiting for their wedding to consummate their love, they were yet to have had sex. Was it frustrating? Yes. But Izaya had said it himself, and Shizuo had taken it to heart – they had to be in a better mental place. 

(The possibility of them being too tired and finishing too quickly wasn’t something either was worried about, truth be told.)

“Yeah,” Izaya said, seeing that Shizuo was thinking, not wanting to disturb his musings. He was sure to tell him whatever conclusion he’d reached once he was done with his thinking.

“I don’t care,” Shizuo said, at last, looking at him “if we kiss, then we do,” it was a statement. Izaya gasped, blinking “if anyone has anything to say, I don’t think they’ll say it to our faces, so it doesn’t matter.”

“I like how straightforward you are,” was all Izaya had to say to that when he recovered from the surprise. He leant onto his shoulder. The exhaustion was settling. They’d repeated the act ten or eleven times with small breaks and had been doing that for over a week. How late was it? They never brought something to check the time. They’d started bringing a small portable record player to play their song, but not phones or watches “let’s head back?”

“Yeah,” Shizuo agreed and reached his hand back to get the portable stereo before they climbed down.

* * *

Friday before the Christmas show came, and the nerves were high, but so was the excitement. The trapeze act had been being advertised, and while, by Izaya and Shizuo’s request, it wasn’t displayed as the main attraction, it was what the audience was the most curious about. Shinra came to watch the act that night to take notes of the highlights so that he could hype them up. He almost dropped the notepad and his jaw. He stared from the hydraulic scaffolding he’d used to take a proper look at what they were doing.

“Um, you’ll need to do it again because… I was too distracted to take a single note,” he said when the two trapezists were back on the board “is this really what we planned for?” He looked at the performance they’d outlined and went through it. Izaya was holding his laughter in. Shizuo was confused because of course that was what they’d planned for “um,” Shinra said and blinked at the plan, nodding “yeah, seems like it’s what we’ve planned… I just didn’t think it’d be so… uh,” he cleared his throat and gestured with his hands.

Izaya looked at him knowing what he wanted to say and wanting him to say it. Shizuo had no idea what he wanted to say, though, or why he was being so weird about it, so he asked. Izaya knew he could count on him.

“So, so,  _ so what _ ?” He asked, frustrated “Was it bad? Was it good? What does,” he mimicked Shinra’s awkward gesturing “what does this mean?”

Izaya cackled heartily, and Shizuo looked at him, confused as Shinra sighed, rubbing his forehead.

“It means that it’s amazing, but everyone will see that you’re both horny as fuck,” Shinra said bluntly, because he, too, knew that Shizuo didn’t enjoy excessive metaphors and beating around the bush. Izaya snorted “I know it was meant to be like this because with your size and strength differences it couldn’t be any other way but…”

“We can’t tone it down, though,” Izaya said with a shrug and Shinra sighed.

“You do know that you’ll be in tights, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Shizuo said. He knew he was talking about unwanted boners, which they had to deal with at that time, too “but they’ll be black so it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Quite,” Izaya confirmed, “and we can prove it right now. So, pay attention this time.” He said and stood up, grabbing a handful of chalk to rub on his hands and arms. Shizuo followed him.

Certain as daybreak, they proved just what Izaya said they would. They did the routine without flaws a second time. Shinra was able to take all the notes he needed by the time the song ended, and they finished. However, the act ended with Shizuo holding Izaya flush against him while Izaya cupped his face between his hands and removed a blindfold from his eyes. Their faces were very close to each other, and it was always at that moment that they kissed when they practiced alone. They forgot that Shinra was there.

“Oh my God…” Shinra gasped. They remembered that he was there and got off the trapeze, landing on the board. Shinra was the colour of the pen he was holding – bright red. 

“Is that part of the act? Will it be, will you do that then?”

Shizuo was a little embarrassed as well, and Izaya wouldn’t pretend his racing heart didn’t have space for a dash of awkwardness. They’d lost themselves in each other. 

“Not sure,” Izaya said vaguely “that’s not part of the act.”

“If you want to,” Shinra said, and Izaya noticed that he’d written something and finished it with a question mark “you can.” He stated, looking at them. They looked back, a bit surprised “I mean it, if you want to, you can kiss then,” he repeated, “your relationship is what’s making this act so powerful. It’s not just the skills and the technique,” he said and closed the notebook “it’s the horny aspect that sells it. I’m going back. You guys keep practicing, but not too long. There’s no need.”

Izaya snorted and nodded. Shizuo nodded vaguely and looked at Izaya, who smiled at him. They heard the hydraulic scaffolding take Shinra down to the ring and watched his small form leave.

Well, they were two days away from the show. They’d see what happened then.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The final part will likely be up over the weekend, I'm unsure yet. Just a note, in case you're reading this as I'm posting it and are looking forward to it. Which I'm thankful for, by the way.)


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